The Road Ahead
by Kilyra
Summary: aka, Horrors and Joys: A dark tale following the end of the blight, while rebuilding the Grey Wardens, the main character must deal with a new development that would usually be a joy...
1. The News

**_Author's Note_**_: This is my first attempt at a longer story with a few chapters. Please bear with me through this initial set-up, the rest won't be so dry! =D_

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"Huuunnngh" she groaned as her stomach continued to convulse. She had just barely made it out of sight before her traitorous body started pumping out the small bit of contents from her stomach. Leaning heavily on the stone wall, her fingers gripped onto the bricks as she waited for the nausea to pass. This was becoming a habit and it would not take long to be found out; one of these times she wouldn't be able to duck around the corner quickly enough. She was growing concerned at this new development and again ran over the possibilities in her head. Illness? No, it's lasted too long. Food supply problem? No one else seems affected. Poisoned? Crows were no longer an issue, and who else would do that? Another effect of the taint she wasn't told of? Possibly. Unfortunately, with Alistair away on yet another goodwill tour, she wasn't able to ask.

The nausea was soon replaced by an overwhelming weakness that left her trembling. Running a hand through her hair, she tried to smooth out her appearance before walking back into the main courtyard. The recruits had faithfully kept training and if they even noticed her disappearance, they did not show it. It was the familiar sound of clanging metal and swishing arrows that gave her comfort while she carefully lowered herself onto one of the stone benches. They had made many changes to Arl Howe's former estate, including replacing the decorative courtyard with training grounds, but they did keep some things such as the garden. It was practical – they were always in need of food, and gave many of them something calming to do. Considering how many of the recruits grew up on farms, it was hardly surprising that so many of them took comfort in the garden.

In the few years following the ending of the Blight, there was little need for Kila and Zevran to travel and find recruits. Many people began approaching the estate, volunteering to join the ranks of the Grey Wardens. Their order had quickly become legendary, the esteem of it being greatly boosted by a Warden King. The only problem was far too many people were coming forward and most of them were not Grey Warden material. Alistair and Kila had discussed at great length what Duncan would look for in new recruits, and how often his recruiting journeys would leave him empty handed. It was a matter of quality over quantity. But neither of them wanted to turn away all the volunteers as many had already closed the door to their former lives. So instead they began accepting people as Warden Allies whose duty would be serving alongside the Wardens in battle and it was not long before this became a prestigious rank as well. The long-term plan was to create a military structure – training the new Wardens on how to lead men, and having a group of Allies assigned to each Warden. It was a tactic that was completely unheard of by any Grey Warden, but visiting Wardens from Orlais approved of this approach especially considering it was similar to what Kila herself had done.

Currently, the reality of this situation was far less glorious. They were training inexperienced young people who had backgrounds in farming or something equally as relevant. The training grounds were always busy with one group or another, and classes were held for various warfare-related skills from treating wounds to setting traps. At times it felt like an uphill battle, but they employed a few veterans as instructors, which helped lighten the burden. Alistair served as advisor, but the bulk of the never-ending work fell on Kila and Zevran.

Zevran. From her place on the bench, she could see him working with a small group of recruits on the basics of finding a critical soft spot. He adamantly insisted on training willing recruits in his ways, reasoning that flanking was important as history would not remember a gloriously failed frontal assault. In his element, he made grand flourishes with the training dummy to get his point across. He always attempted to make it fun as it was easier to retain that way according to him. His tanned skin glisten in the morning sun, and his hair had an almost benevolent glow to it. She couldn't help but smile, even after all they had been through, secretly watching him still brought her so much joy.

Finally, she realized she would have to tear herself away from watching her dear sun god. Her trembling had stopped, but her stomach was still angrily churning. Carefully, she made her way to the kitchen in hopes of finding bread to settle it. Of course she planned to scrutinize the bread first, looking for any traces of poison or mold…

On her way into the estate, she heard a familiar whine at her back. Without turning around she chuckled, "Oh you can come too," and held the door open a touch longer for Tolan, her beloved Mabari, to sneak in with her. She could be sure he noticed her quick disappearance. Happily, he plodded along beside her as she made her way down to the kitchen.

Dilwyn greeted Kila warmly when she saw her peeking in the doorway, "Come in my dear! You don't need to be shy." She was a friend of Kila's mother and after discovering she didn't perish in Ostagar, returned Denerim to be with her. It was considered unusual to have an elf as the head of a kitchen, but times were changing with Kila's cousin, Shianni, serving as an advisor to the king regarding better conditions for the elves in the Alienages of Ferelden. Besides, there was very little in the Grey Warden estate that was considered usual. Not only did Dilwyn head the kitchen, but also her and her husband worked as instructors with the recruits. Kila had been so relieved when they agreed to stay on and help.

As Kila entered, Dilwyn gave a quick glance to Tolan, but kept her mouth closed. Kila politely motioned for him to sit by the door out of respect to the order in Dilwyn's kitchen. With a whimpering sigh, he obliged, and one of the kitchen staff rewarded him with a left over bone.

"So my dear, might I ask what brings you here at this time of day? If I'm not mistaken the newest recruits are in the training field." Dilwyn continued to work, but gave Kila her attention.

Absently, she shook her head, "No, not the newest. They know their drills well enough, and besides, Zevran is still up there with them."

"You know, you could talk to my husband about watching the field in your place more often. We understand how time-consuming the paperwork side of things are. And besides, the more free time you keep giving him, the more of a nuisance in the kitchen he is," Dilwyn smiled kindly as she spoke, each word was warm with love even as she insulted her husband. "Oh," she remembered, "But…why are you down here again?"

"I was just hoping you might have some bread for me…"

Dilwyn gave her a measuring sidelong glance, "And why?" she prodded.

Kila leaned against the counter and sighed, "Because my stomach has been on edge all day and I'm hoping some dry bread might settle it." No need to explain it's been a couple of weeks like this. With Dilwyn filling motherly shoes for her, she would make an issue of it and Kila wanted to figure out what was happening before announcing the problem to anyone.

A knowing smile slowly across Dilywn's face, "Of course dear." Quickly she produced a chunk of bread as she guided Kila to a nearby stool, "But please sit and relax for a bit while you're eating at least." Smoothly, she continued back to work on lunch. Her back was turned to Kila, but she knew the woman was sitting as told. She was so much like her mother.

Over her shoulder Dilwyn casually scolded the Warden, "All you do is rush around all day. Busy, busy I understand…But you really shouldn't push yourself so hard when you're with child. It's not good for the baby you know."

Kila was picking at the bread, setting onto the stool. With another sigh she replied, "I know Dil it's just…" her words stopped short as her attention snapped from the bread to Dilwyn. _Wait…when who is with the what now?_

Springing back up, the bread dropped to the ground and the stool clattered out from behind her, inciting an excited bark from Tolan. "Not…not good for the _what?!_"


	2. The Problem

_**Author's Note:** It gets a bit darker here...I promise this is a darker tale despite how lighthearted the first chapter is!_

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"_It's just that you have the same glow your mother did…but I could be wrong!"_

Dilwyn's words still rang in Kila's head. The gravel crunched under her feet as she pulled the hood of her cloak further down over her forehead. She was not attempting to conceal her identity, but she was also not interested in talking to anyone as she made her way through Denerim. Wynne. She had to see Wynne, the only person that could help her sort this out. Impulsively her hand dropped down to her stomach. There was no denying the faint lump growing on her abdomen. With all the administrative duties she was trapped in, she assumed that she was growing soft, much to her embarrassment. Once she dealt with the source of the nausea, she had vowed to do double time on the training grounds to make up for it all…but now?

Suddenly, she was jerked out of her thoughts as a small boy ran up to her, "Lady Kila?" he asked and she curtly nodded, "Message for you! The King requests an audience."

"He's back?" she asked the boy. He politely nodded as he turned heel to run off to his next assignment. The question was redundant, of course the King returned.

For the first time in days, she gasped with excitement. Alistair might have some answers for her, or at least he would understand why she was upset. As she quickened her pace, Wynne was pushed out of her mind completely. After a short explanation to the guards, she was soon ushered into one of the conference chambers where she waited for Alistair.

"Lady Kila!" Alistair exclaimed loudly as he threw his arms open for a hug. He was never one for being proper. With a childish grin, she returned his hug, letting her worries lift away for a brief moment. "That was fast, I didn't expect to see you until at least evening"

Kila smiled as she stepped back, "I was already on my way when your boy found me. I had no idea you were back, when did you arrive?"

"Oh, just a couple of days but we kept it quiet. You know how I feel about all the pomp and ceremony. When I leave there's a ceremony, when I return there's another, when I wipe my nose…well you get the point. Bloody waste of time if you ask me."

"Oh, a couple of days. So I assume you've spent some time with Anora?" she asked. He quickly broke eye contact. That was a no. "Oh Alistair," she scolded "You know, I've spent a lot of time with her lately. She'd been a huge help teaching me the…drier side of things. But I am surprised how much I've come to like her. She's not as terrible as all that."

With a sour look on his face he turned back to his friend before quickly changing the subject, "Riiight. So anyway, why were you already on your way here?"

Kila pursed her lips at his rebuff. She had started seeing a new side to the Queen, one she was sure Alistair would like if she could just convince him to try. But pulling a stubborn mule doesn't get a person very far either. She sighed, letting it go for now, "I was actually coming to see Wynne."

The pair relaxed and settled in while they caught up on recent news. Alistair's tour had been uneventful, including no Darkspawn incidents. Ever since the Blight, Darkspawn numbers had dwindled, but there were still reports of unorganized roaming bands of them.

Finally, Alistair broke out of the pleasantries and silently stared at the woman across the table until she finally shifted uncomfortably in her chair, "So…do you plan on telling me what's going on here, or do I need to force it out of you? And don't even _think_ about lying to me. I can tell you know."

Kila's eyebrow gracefully arched as she measured her friend. _When did we get so clever?_ She had many questions for him, but suddenly her mouth felt full of sand as the enormity of the situation hit her again. "Why were you coming to see Wynne? It wasn't just social was it?" he pressed.

Words are simple bits of air pushed forth from the mouth. And yet, these particular words sat heavily in her throat, quietly strangling her. The walls were closing in. Her palms itched with sweat. Abruptly she stood up from her chair and marched towards the door, "Forget it, this was a mistake."

With surprising speed, Alistair blocked her exit and gently grabbed her by the arm, "Oh, I don't think so. You don't honestly expect me to let you just walk out after you piqued my interest?" He tried desperately to joke through the sudden, foreign, tension.

Kila jerked her arm away and took a step back. "No, there's no point in talking to you. You have already been wrong in saying this couldn't happen so I don't know what other specks of brilliant misinformation I was hoping for by coming to you."

Alistair's eyed widened in confusion at the vague accusation, "I what? What did I say couldn't happen?"

Raising her chin upwards, she looked directly into his eyes, "You said Wardens can't have _children_. You said it never happens and the only ones who have children are those who had them before they joined."

Instinctively, Alistair defended himself, "I did not! I said it's _difficult_ for Wardens to have children, and the only people _I personally_ knew that had children were from before the Joining. I never said it was impossible! According to Duncan, it _has_ happened."

Angrily, she crossed her arms in front of her and looked away, but didn't argue. Sometimes the mind remembers what it will.

Finally, the thought struck him and a smile burst out, "Wait…is this your way of telling me that _you_ are going to have a child?"

Her only reply was returning her gaze to him. It was so cold, but Alistair seemed to take no notice. "Oh, that's wonderful news! Who would have thought that you'd beat me to having an heir," he teased.

"Well if you'd spend more than two minutes with your wife, it wouldn't be a problem!" Kila snapped, "The whole country thinks you're so wonderful with all these good-will tours when the truth is you're just running away like a scared little boy! The worst part is, if you'd just give her a chance you might actually discover you don't want to run away."

Alistair blinked for a moment, as his amused expression turned to a dumbfounded one. Finally he frowned halfway between serious and jest, "Hey, what are you yelling at me for? I didn't do anything. So…as King I say you can't do that anymore." Stern silence. "Look, why don't you just save us…well me…a lot of headache here and tell me what's going on."

Turning her back to him, Kila lowered herself into a chair. She sighed, "I'm sorry Alistair, I don't mean to be so…" The sentence hung unfinished and she moved on, "I came to you, instead of Wynne, to find out if you know anything about Grey Wardens and their offspring. Has there been _anything_ recorded?"

Thoughtfully, Alistair leaned against the wall and reflected. "There must be, but not that I've seen myself. So much was lost here in Ferelden, but I imagine Orlais would have records. What information are you looking for…exactly?"

He had never seen her look so small. Her head proudly remained raised, but her slight shoulders began to slump. This shrinking frame was a stark comparison to the fierce woman he knew. With a disconnection to her words, she simply stated, "Alistair, I am tainted."

Blankly, he stared at the back of her. Continuing, her voice steadily lost its commanding tone, "Alistair, what if I _am_ with child? _I am tainted_." She paused. "What would that do to the child?"

Finally, the understanding drained a bit of colour from his face. That thought had never occurred to him, "I…I don't know what to say. Duncan never mentioned any…issues with the few known children."

"Which were likely sired by Warden men," she interjected.

Helplessly he shrugged. "I don't know but…there aren't many female Grey Wardens," he reluctantly agreed.

"Do you think it would be different for a woman?" She asked quietly, "The baby spends all this time…fermenting…in the taint. How could that not…" Taking a deep breath, she finished, "What if I am just a glorified _broodmother_?"

Alistair couldn't help but chuckle, "Kila, I don't have all the answers, but I _know _it doesn't work like that!"

"Ruck then." She drowned his light words with ones of despair.

Ruck. A name Alistair hadn't heard in so long. Her brief time spent with the tainted dwarf in the Deep Roads still continued to haunt her even after all this time. That name sat heavy in his mind, pondering the likelihood that her concerns were valid. It was not a trail of thought he could fully go down right now.

"What does Zevran have to say about all this?" Alistair asked. Kila's head finally dropped as her eyes fell to the table. Her transformation from proud warrior to a woman in anguish was complete.

Alistair had seen her bloodied and bruised, her skin split wide open and sewn shut again, her body tossed to the ground like a lifeless ragdoll. And yet, through all of those times, he had never seen her look so broken. Finally, he noticed the quiver to her shoulders. She was crying.

He stiffened as he stood facing her back, trying to decide what to do. Quickly, he moved in, gently turning her towards him as he wrapped his arms around her. There was nothing more he could say beyond hollow words of encouragement, and they both knew this.

Instead of spewing meaningless words, he simply held her as she finally cried.


	3. The Friend

_**Author's Note:** Sorry about the delay, was having issues uploading. No really, that's not just an excuse this time! ;)_

The wet, morning grass helped to keep his footsteps silent as he carefully approached his target. Slinking up to the back of his hulking victim, the blood rushed in his ears making it almost impossible to judge how loud he was being. He worked to keep his breathing even and quiet, not wanting anything to give him away. Closer..._closer_. Finally, he lunged forward, biting back the urge for a triumphant war cry as he sank his blade in deep.

"Hold," Zevran coolly instructed from the side. The student froze in position, still holding the handle of the blade that was firmly stabbed into the back of the training dummy. Calmly, Zevran sauntered up to examine the recruit's handiwork, shaking his head at what he saw. "Well, this well-placed spot on the back of the shoulder would succeed in making him royally angry, but little else I am afraid."

Looking at the recruit, "Resume" he called, and immediately the student grasped the handle securely and went to pull the blade out for a second hit. "And in return, he would spin around suddenly…" As he spoke, Zevran forcefully spun the dummy around, effectively twisting the handle out of the student's grasp, "Leaving you standing there unarmed, and now face-to-face with a large and rather upset foe." The frustration was clear on the recruit's face, but he held his tongue.

Stepping away and turning to the whole group, Zevran continued, "Judging by its size, I would say this is a Shriek, creatively named for its hideous shrieks. It has no known magic behind it, but the shock from its horrible wail will still you all the same if you are unprepared. I assure you, it is the sort of sound that haunts a man." As he spoke, he began to pace in front of the dummy, "This is not a creature you ever want to have its attention on you. They do not use weapons, but rather shreds enemies with its claws. Weapon to weapon gives you a chance to counter attack, but it is surprisingly difficult to defend against such a feral attack of only claws. If you plan to take one of these on, your first hit must count."

Gracefully, he moved to pull the blade from the back of the dummy, only to find it wouldn't budge. With a frown, he used his foot to brace against the target and finally worked the blade free. "I think I see what the problem is. You are in the stealth class young recruit. The entire purpose is to find weak spots or chinks in the armour. If you ever have to use this sort of force, you have already lost." He handed the blade back to the student. "You have one week to show me you can comprehend the concept of stealth class, or I will be sending you to melee. Now go practice."

Turing to the next recruit in line, he nodded for him to proceed. While the student readied himself, Zevran looked up to the study room window, hoping for a glance at his love. It was empty, as was her spot at the dinner table, at the training ground, in the bed... For some time, it was obvious something was troubling her, but she kept him locked on the outside. He tried to be patient, confident she would turn to him when she was ready. But with each new day of being tossed to the side, patience was getting more difficult to come by. With a sigh, he pushed unhelpful thoughts from his mind.

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The two women stared at each other from across the desk, the paperwork making a small mountain range between them. Wynne had arrived at the estate unannounced and found her way to Kila with the sole purpose of determining whether she was indeed with child. She claimed to have been sent by Alistair, but Kila had her own thoughts as to how much of it was being sent and how much was being too nosy to stay away. The light filtered in through the window, showing the bits of dust in the air that floated and settled like the silence that had briefly settled on the women.

"So I drag my tired, old bones across Denerim just to confirm what you already knew?" Wynne asked finally, quirking her eyebrow at the quiet elf.

"The only thing tired and old about you is your act Wynne. I know how spry you are, don't think you fool me," eventually a smile cracked in the corner of Kila's mouth.

With a gracious nod, Wynne continued, "Well, be that as it may child, I can't imagine Alistair sent me over here for something any midwife could have confirmed."

Many thoughts raced through Kila's mind; most notable was the fact it hadn't been Alistair's place to mention it to Wynne to begin with. But to comment on that would be an insult to Wynne's efforts, and even to Alistair's intentions. "No, I don't suppose that's why he asked you to come."

Ignoring Kila's pause, Wynne tried to gently guide the conversation, clearly knowing where it would lead, "I would say congratulations are in order, but from what I understand, it is not something you are entirely happy about?"

With a heavy sigh, Kila leaned back into her chair, "If I knew what to expect, I would be happy." She caught sight of Wynne's sceptical expression she defended herself, "I would! Probably. But it's especially hard to be excited when what I'm carrying could either be a child or a terrifying spawn of evil."

Wynne frowned and carefully looked over her friend. "You know, Alistair actually sent me over to find out if there was cause for concern. He seems to think I would be able to sense anything amiss, like my connection to the Fade might have some use in this situation. I only wish it did work that way. He had tried to reach out with his own mind, but there would be no way to tell any difference between the taint in you and…" Her words drifted off as she realized she was being insensitive. If her line of thought bothered Kila however, she did not show it

"I know," she said flatly, "I am always aware of that myself. I keep trying to reach for an external connection with something that is a part of me. Not surprisingly I come up empty."

Wynne fell silent for several moments, thinking over the possibility of sensing something tainted in ones self. Neither Warden spoke of how exactly they could sense Darkspawn nor did she ever push the topic. It was an interesting thought though…

"And how did Zevran react to this?" Wynne changed the subject. The softness in her voice hinted that Alistair already told her that was a sensitive issue too. Kila looked away and bore a hole through the piles of paper on her desk. "I see. And why haven't you told him yet?"

Kila pushed herself away from the table and walked over to the window. Turning her back on Wynne, she gazed down into the training grounds. As always, Zevran was there, faithfully running the recruits through their drills. Suddenly, she longed to be next to him, to feel his arms wrapped around her, to feel the rise and fall of his chest as they lay together. With a defeated sigh, she shook these thoughts from her head. The wall that existed was by her hand but she resented it all the same.

"I'm not going to get all weepy, so if that's what you're after, you can forget it." Kila's tone was even, but her meaning was light-hearted.

"I suppose I'll have to find my entertainment elsewhere then. Just as well, I suspect it would get awkward." Wynne smiled, willing to let the topic drop.

Much to Wynne's surprise, Kila did continue, "I don't know why I haven't told him Wynne." She carefully picked through her thoughts, "I have never been able to offer him anything without strings attached. Being a Warden overshadows every aspect of my life…it _is_ my life. You taught me that it is easier when you accept these things, and I do, I truly do. But, it still makes me sad to watch Zevran become trapped by it. He does it willingly enough it seems but…"

Wynne moved from her chair over to Kila, who turned to face her as she finished, "I just want to, for once, be able to offer him something pure – a son. But as it is, I have to look him in the eyes as tell him that, as with everything else, there are more strings attached. I just had hoped for enough time to get some answers."

"A noble thought, but unfortunately for you, Zevran is too smart and this secret will not keep for long."

"So what are my options?"

Wynne chuckled to herself. Ever the strategist. No time to dwell on feelings, especially uncomfortable ones. "Well, Alistair has offered to send a rider to the Wardens in Orlais for information. I think you should take him up on that offer, it is the best hope of solid knowledge there is, be it written or verbal records."

Kila nodded. This was the best option.

"In the meantime," Wynne added, "You must talk to Zevran. He has proven to be a good man, and trapped or not, he deserves to know what is happening. There is also the point that even the swiftest rider could not make it to Orlais and back before your condition becomes obvious. Time is not something you have I'm afraid"

Kila gave a resigned smile as she nodded this time, "I'm glad you came, Wynne."

Wynne dropped her arm around Kila and pulled her in, "I always have the time for a lecture or two my dear."


	4. The Flashback

_**Author's Note:** Grab yer bags; we're going on a flashback! Three reasons 1) I wanted to break up the monotony of talking and more talking 2) It actually is somewhat relevant and 3) The story stayed stuck in my head so long that I had to write it out so it would quit haunting me!! Enjoy! =D_

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_No no no don't make Ruck remember the light. It's easy to live in the dark when you forget the light. You know what Ruck means…_

The light clinking of Oghren's armour as he paced around the camp gently mingled with the faint sound of dripping water. Although he did understand the need to rest, he was frustrated and anxious to press on. He refused to eat, refused to talk, and clearly refused to settle as he paced and drank deep from his hip flask – likely filled with ale. The striking-looking elf on the other side of the camp mirrored the nervous dwarf as he also paced. The group had decided on a camp tucked against the wall at a wide opening in one of the caverns. It was a rather secure spot, difficult for a creature to sneak up on them…but in the Deep Roads nothing could be taken for granted. Zevran was uneasy…it was too quiet.

Huddled immediately around the small fire, Alistair and Kila held a hushed conversation while Tolan – Kila's trusted mabari war hound settled in at her feet. "But Alistair," Kila persisted in trying to make her point, "How different are we really? I mean, he knew. Ruck _knew_ what I…what we…are. He knew the taint existed in us as surely as in himself."

Alistair helplessly shrugged, "And as surely as it does in the darkspawn. It doesn't bother you when they can sense us…"

"That's different. Ruck's like us, not like them."

Alistair crinkled his nose, "Um…no. He's definitely not like us. He's completely insane from eating their flesh and living like an animal all alone. You honestly can't compare us to that. Kila, you really can't let this bother you so much, we will be facing much worse."

With an exasperated sigh, she dropped her hand and absently scratched behind Tolan's ear. He rubbed back against her hand with appreciation. "We didn't _face _him; he wasn't an enemy," she insisted, "He _identified_ with us. Did it honestly mean nothing to you when he talked about losing the light to the darkness?"

"We're not like that," Alistair maintained, "We live topside, not in the blackness of the Deep Roads in complete isolation, slowly losing our minds. I for one have never felt separated from the light to begin with."

"I understood what he meant. Sometimes I feel…" she trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to finish that sentence. "But how different are we really?" she completed the circle again, "How much would it take for us…me…to be like _that_?"

Zevran attempted to tune the pair out, his irritation starting to get the better of him. Ruck, at first glace, appeared to be a simpleton dwarf who had long been lost to the Deep Roads and somehow survived. After the group spoke with him briefly, it was apparent he had survived by eating the flesh of the darkspawn, which was the cause for him losing his sensibilities. It would be easy to dismiss such a harmless fool had it not been for the fact he could relate to Kila. He sensed her taint; he knew that she was beginning to understand what it meant to live with the darkness. He told her things she was working to ignore. It is hard to dismiss that. Zevran, for one, hoped they never saw that ill dwarf again – he had never seen Kila this agitated.

Zevran had caught the profound look of compassion in her eyes when she spoke to Ruck, and it was clear to him that she saw her and Ruck as different shades of the same colour. How could it not be upsetting to look into the twisted mirror that Ruck was to her? And as unnerving as it was, how could she not feel a deep connection with him? To judge him was to judge herself. Zevran understood all this, and yet she turned to Alistair for guidance – who simply saw Ruck as just another obstacle. As much as he wanted to step into the conversation, Zevran respected the kinship that was borne between the two through the bond of the taint…even though it meant listening to them repeatedly talk in circles.

He stared out into the dimness, moving his focus elsewhere. Hopefully, when she tired of getting nowhere, she would seek him out. And with any luck she would eventually come to understand that Alistair may know her taint, but it was he that knew her mind. Softly he sighed – he sincerely hoped she would realize that at least.

A hissing noise caught his attention. He scanned the dim cavern again, seeing nothing…but his keen ears caught another hiss followed by a rustle…

"_From above!_" He shouted on instinct seconds before three large spiders dropped from the ceiling to surround the camp. Instantly, everyone was up, weapon in hand as they stared down the large foes.

Oghren didn't have time to think before his body sprang into action at the creature directly before him. His flask was chucked to the ground and quickly replaced by his battleaxe. With a mindless yell, he charged forward, swinging his axe, and fully connected with the face of the spider. Wrenching his axe out of its flesh, an arc of ichor sprayed out, followed by a steady ooze of the sticky fluid. In surprise, the creature tried to grab at Oghren, who easily hacked the legs away with his axe. The bits of leg spurted very little fluid as they dropped to the ground – but even so with his brutal assault there was a wild mess. The giant spider would have had a chance if it tried to toss webbing down onto the dwarf first, but as it was, the fight was one sided.

Alistair charged forward, bashing the centre spider back with his shield. Tolan lunged at the same one, catching a leg in his powerful jaws. The spider let out a screech as it shoved its body forward, trying to gain the advantage over Alistair. He braced himself behind his shield, and swept his sword forward, catching some of the spider's legs in the process. The spider reared back from the biting sword and tearing teeth, but Tolan just charged forward allowing it no reprieve. The mabari connected into the body of the spider, sending it rolling onto its back. Its legs flailed helplessly as it tried to flip itself back over. Alistair stood and thrust his sword down into the spider's soft underbelly. Quickly, he pulled his sword through the soft tissue, leaving an angry, gaping gash. The thick ichor quickly spilled out, as Alistair and Tolan moved in for the kill.

Even after Alistair pushed the closest spider back, Kila was still forced to hug the wall as she readied her bow. She was at a disadvantage in such tight quarters, but her arrows quickly met their target however weakly. Steadily, her arrows flew, but beast still stood and turned its focus on her. Its angry clicks and squeals became louder as it was quickly closing the gap between them. Her skin bristled as it closed in on her, and she prepared to reach for her blades. Suddenly, the spider shrieked and jerked dramatically before slumping to the ground at her feet. From its back, Zevran stood into view taking a few more steps on the beast before jumping to the ground with a cocky smirk. She breathed a sigh of relief and exchanged a grin with him as she relaxed her bow.

Cautiously, everyone returned to the fire each straining to hear for signs of any more. Silence. They all took deep breaths, trying to calm themselves as their hearts still raced from the brief battle. It was difficult to hear noises with the blood rushing through their ears.

After holding his breath for a moment and hearing nothing, Oghren hesitantly picked up his fallen flask and returned it to its rightful place on his belt. The bodies and their stench were too close to the camp, and it was obvious they would have to move on. Oghren and Alistair both moved to pickup the few items that were pulled from their packs.

"Shhhh," Kila hissed and without question they froze in place. She couldn't explain it, but something pressed her to keep looking, keep listening…

She stood at the edge of the camp, peering into the darkness while the others remained still by the fire. Alistair looked from Oghren to Zevran trying to gain some insight, but both men gave a confused shrug.

Finally, she could hear it, a faint howl coming from the tunnel leading into the cavern. She could see a spot of light at the mouth of the cavern, like a torch being tossed to the ground. Someone was out there…

_**AN:**__ To be continued…muahahahahaha_


	5. The Flashback Conclusion

_**Author's Note:**__ So this is where I take wild liberties with the storyline from the game. It's called a creative license dammit so sue me. Err no wait, the opposite of that…don't sue me! But feel free to tell me what you think! Please?_

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They all heard the second hair-raising howl. Some beast was clearly in trouble nearby – yet another reason they needed to move on swiftly. Alistair hastily started to gather contents into his pack. Maybe they could be gone before the offending creature moved on to them.

Kila was still unmoving, looking over at the spot of light. Suddenly, she burst into motion as she sprinted towards the mouth of the cavern, "No…no, no, no…no, No NO!" her soft words gradually picked up volume. Her companions blinked at each other until it finally registered she had left their company. It was impossible to catch her, as her long strides carried her hard and fast.

Approaching the mouth, she saw another spider that had busied itself with a mound beneath it. Swiftly, she raised her bow as she ran, "_NO_, _NO, NO,_" it became her war cry. As she ran, her arrows soared to angrily sink into the hairy body of the spider. And again. _Again. Four. Five_. Finally she stopped short as the spider turned away from its victim and focused on her. Its movements were clumsy and she realized it was missing a leg. In awkward lunges, it moved towards her, and her arrows whistled through the air eagerly meeting the spider's face. Its angry high-pitched squeals filled her ears, urging her to smoothly grab the next arrow. And the next…

Tolan bolted past Kila without slowing, unconcerned with stray arrows. With a low, vicious growl, Tolan leapt at the heavily injured spider snapping, tearing…killing. It stopped moving as a puddle of ichor oozed out from under it.

She ran forward to the mound and her hand clapped over her mouth as she froze in shock. Her companions arrived and stood behind her. The webbing made it impossible to tell what the spider had, but she knew. "Ruck?" She cried from behind her hand. The mound stirred.

Dropping her bow, she raced to his side, painfully sliding down on her knees. Frantically, she ripped the silky webbing away from him, revealing the dwarf's face. Slowly he blinked, his vacant eyes coming to focus on her. A spark of recognition, "Pretty…pretty lady!"

"Ruck! Ruck? What are you doing here?" her words were frenzied as she automatically started patting him for injuries.

"Pretty lady…" he repeated slowly. It caught her this time and she looked down at his face. He was pale, so very pale. There was a thin layer of tiny sweat beads on his skin. His breathing was slow and labourous. She had seen this enough times - he was in death's embrace.

"No, no, no" she whispered in horror as her hands flew over his body again. Ripping away more of the webbing, she saw the blood soaking through his shirt. Pulling up the fabric, she saw the mangled mess of what was his soft belly. The blood trickled freely even as she replaced the shirt. "_Oh Ruck" _Her voice was barely audible as tears quickly welled in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but instead they rolled down her face, leaving streaks through the dirt smudges. Desperately, she tried to keep her composure, but the realization of what was happening hit her in waves, wearing her down quickly.

The taint-addled dwarf looked up at her, working to focus on her. Clumsily, his hand rose and his fingers brushed across her face, "Pretty lady…don't…cry for Ruck." He forced his words as his hand fell away, leaving trailing blood smears. Quickly, she caught his hand as it dropped from her face and rested it on his chest with her hands clasped over top.

A cry hiccuped past her lips. "What are you even doing here?" She asked again her voice quivering. She did not expect an answer.

He was unable to move his head, but he tried to look to his side. For the first time, she noticed the twitching severed leg and next to it laid a sword. Without being asked, Zevran swiftly scooped up the sword and brought it over to the fallen dwarf.

Ruck ran his tongue over his drying lips, trying to form a sentence, "Special…for friends…to use" He took several shallow breaths before giving up on words, and finally moved to reach into his tunic pocket. Steadily, Kila guided his hand and found blood stained papers that would later reveal he had brought them the Topsider's Honor – a powerful sword.

His kind gesture had shaken her anew, "Please Ruck, just hold on," she begged. "We can bandage you and get you to back to Orzammar," she spoke of the impossible.

Everything was becoming slick with blood. Even holding his hand was a challenge as it threatened to slip away from her grasp. His blood was pooling out under him, no longer being soaked in his clothes or the remaining webbing.

"No" he whispered. "Pretty…lady…Ruck…Ruck can feel…the…light again." A gurgle cut him off as he coughed painfully. "_Some day…you…_" His breaths were ragged and words laboured. The rest of the words never came.

Calmness finally took over his face, relaxing his twisted expression as a smile emerged. He blinked once more and his eyes completely unfocused. He stared past Kila as his chest fell for the last time.

She sat in shock, holding her breath as it registered he was gone. She couldn't accept it. Without warning, she screamed his name desperately and started to violently shake his shoulders. His limp body gave easily to her as she angrily tried to wake him.

They stood behind her, completely stunned by the scene before them. Tolan sat next to Oghren and let out a pitiful whimper. Oghren had no words – never would he have expected this from the strong woman who recruited him in Orzammar. In a daze, his hand found the top of Tolan's head and sat heavily in the only gesture of comfort he could muster. Quickly Alistair moved over to her, "He's…he's gone Kila" he gently tried to tell her as he put a hand on her shoulder. He had to help her. But she was wild, and his simple gesture seemed to infuriate her further.

"_You don't understand_," She angrily spat as she furiously jerked her shoulders away from his touch and fell over the bloody body with a cry.

He had enough. With a disgusted click of the tongue, Zevran roughly pushed past Alistair and knelt beside Kila. He didn't try to talk to her; he simply grabbed her shoulders and attempted to sit her back up. Outraged, she easily slapped him away as she turned back to the fallen dwarf. With his jaw set in grim determination, he firmly grabbed her again and forcefully turned her away from the body.

She shoved against him hard, "_You don't understand_," she repeated.

"Oh, but I do my love," he replied calmly. He pulled her up as he stood, which between her resistance and the slippery floor was an incredible challenge. His agility served him well and he did not falter. Finally, both of them stood as he hugged her close, forcing her arms behind him leaving her unable to shove him away again.

Alistair stood to the side, nervously wringing his hands as his eyes reflected his torment. He might not understand why this taint-addled dwarf meant anything at all to her, but he did care nonetheless. Her cries tore through him as he watched Zevran try to calm her.

Tightly Zevran held her as she bucked against him. He was fully braced for the screams ringing in his ear and the blows she struck to his back with her angry fists. She was furious at being ripped away from the body, but they did not have time to stop and grieve. It would be a surprise if the blood and noise didn't attract more enemies. Gradually her screams turned to sobs, though her body remained tense as she tried to pull away.

Finally Zevran spoke soothingly into her ear, "Yes, I know my Ki. You were bonded. He felt it too…He felt it too" he repeated. He did understand…and that realization broke her. He tightened his grip as she fell limp and sobbed in his arms.

As her cries got softer he added, "That is why he came Ki. But it does not make you responsible." He paused. She needed time to comprehend what he said as his words had to cut through a dense fog of grief.

"You can not do this," he continued, "You can not fall apart my dear Ki. We need you, and he would not want this for you. Do you hear me?" He paused again. "You have to honour him by putting his sword to good use. Not falling apart. We can do this for him yes?" He felt her slowly nod her head in his blood-soaked hair. Squeezing his eyes closed for a moment, he rested his head against hers relieved she was coming back to her senses.

Eventually, she stood on her own and pulled away from Zevran's clutch. Her eyes went vacant and her mind retreated for the time being. She was a ghastly sight – smeared blood, dirt, and tears – but she was functioning. Numbly, she let Zevran lead her back towards the fire of the camp so they could prepare to move on and find the source of the dripping water.

Alistair looked from the body to Oghren and back again. "Hoo no!" Oghren exclaimed after the two elves left, "That daft dwarf can lie where he fell!"

Alistair shook his head, "No. We might not think much of him, but clearly she does. Out of respect for her, we're going to give him a decent grave." It was as simple as that.

Oghren groaned to himself as they set to work. What sodding softheads had he thrown his lot in with anyhow? Even being new to the group, he was aware this was an evening that would not be spoken of again.

Silently, they worked quickly so they could move on and leave this scene behind.


	6. The Talk

_**Author's Note:** This chapter is a bit anti climatic and a bit longer than the others (not long enough to break up though), but I hope you enjoy!_

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_There she stood in her simple wedding dress adorned with beaded trim and her fair hair cascading gently around her milky shoulders. She was a vision beyond radiance; she was his goddess. His heart jumped to his throat as he approached her and took her hands in his. Her voice was honey, "Today is the day."_

"_It would seem that way my love," he teased._

_Anxiety riddled her face, "Are you sure you want to do this?"_

_Confidently he replied, "Oh, my Ki, what more could I do to prove it to you? I already returned to Antiva so we could share our life together without interference. It was no picnic I assure you."_

"_I know, I just mean…I can't picture you settling down and I don't want…"_

_His jovial laugh interrupted her thought and he pulled her close, "My Ki, people like us never truly settle down do we? We may vow to spend our remaining adventures together, but I suspect there will be very little settling." His heart ached for her smile._

Rolling over, Zevran stretched his arm out for her only to find the bed empty. Again. For a moment, he stared at her empty spot. Patience was a virtue. His lips drew together in a thin line…but even the Maker himself couldn't deny he had already been patient enough. Besides, he had never been overly concerned with his virtues. Throwing on his clothes, he gracefully strode through the estate on a hunch of where she might be.

The door of the study creaked softly as he opened it and peered in. The cool light from the moon dimly lit the room, and he could see Kila sitting at her desk as expected. All her papers were pushed to the side, however, and before her sat the Topsider's Honor. Tenderly, she stared down at it, her fingers gently tracing the cold metal.

Opening the door wider, he delicately stepped into the room. "Ah, the arch demon slayer I see," he said quietly.

He hadn't surprised her. Somehow, she had expected him to come. Without looking up, she nodded slightly before correcting him, "Ruck's sword."

That name hung thick in the air. It was rarely mentioned. She could not be in a good frame of mind if she was dwelling on those memories…however, Zevran refused to be deterred, "If you like, I shall grab my polishes and make it sing for you." With a weak smile, she shook her head. "No? Perhaps another time then. So might I ask, do you sleep sitting up now, or was a bed brought here that I am unaware of?" He spoke as lightly as he could, trying to bring a smile to her uneasy face. No luck. The odd exchange of pleasantries had grown uncomfortable.

Kila pushed herself back into her chair and finally looked up at Zevran. For a moment, she said nothing, just mentally weighing what she had to say. "We have to talk."

"I suspected as much," he agreed.

Several times, she opened her mouth with nothing coming out. He did not push, but she quickly got frustrated with herself. _Why is this so hard?_ Finally, she gave up on words and drew herself up from her chair. She dropped the eye contact, too unsure of how she felt much less for how he would feel. Gently, she pulled the bottom of her shirt tunic up past her stomach. The bump was still too slight to be obvious, but she naturally rested her hands on her abdomen in a caring way.

It was that gesture which spoke to Zevran as he stared at her hands. A slow smile spread over his face as the realization began to truly set in. Not hearing anything, Kila finally forced herself to look over at him, catching herself beginning to smile at his giddy expression. For a moment, he looked many years younger and many burdens lighter as his face simply radiated joy. Eventually he blinked himself out of his stupor and with a quick bound, rounded the table to sweep her into a hug.

He rested his chin on her head, keeping her close to him as he murmured, "My Ki, you had me worried it was bad news." His hand dropped to cover hers and together they rested on his son.

She nestled her face into his neck, breathing in his scent. It felt like a lifetime since she simply enjoyed him. "You're really happy, aren't you?" she asked.

"And why not?" He easily replied. He put his hands on her shoulder as he straightened up to look deep into her eyes. "Never would I have dreamed of being able to offer a son so much. A strong and beautiful mother, a stable place to grow filled with loving people, and yet more family a short walk away. My Ki, I never dared to hope for half as much."

He brushed some stray hairs from her face as he stopped for a moment to truly look at her. Her smile was forced. Despite his efforts, disappointment crept into his own features, "But I see by your troubled face my Ki, you do not share this sentiment?"

Kila turned back towards the sword on the desk, carefully running her hand along it. Zevran looked from her to the sword, trying to understand. Finally she spoke, "I just don't know…" She paused and tried again, "I'm tainted."

Slowly he nodded as the puzzle pieces fell together. It was clear why she was sadly fawning over the sword after all this time. His frown faded away with his understanding. "My Ki," he said gently, "Everything will be alright."

She scoffed, "And what do you have to base that on?"

"Well," he said thoughtfully refusing to return her anxiousness, "It would seem to me that if having a child would end in tragedy, your order would have taken measures against such a thing. After all, the entire purpose of the Wardens is to protect us from similar threats, yes? So if that were the known result of parenthood, would your order not be celibate? Or comprised only of men?"

"Huh" she breathed as she looked up at him in surprise, "I still want to be sure but…but I can't believe we never thought of it like that."

"What?" He asked in a suddenly flat tone._ We?_

Kila's eyes darted around the room. What did she miss? Hesitantly, she began to elaborate, "Oh, it's just…I mean spoke with Alistair and he is sending a rider to Orlais, but what you said just makes so much sense I can't believe we didn't think of that ourselves."

"So," he voice was sharp and humourless, "You went to Alistair?"

"What?" Her pulse quickened.

Zevran took a step back, "You went to _Alistair_? So _Alistair_ knew about _my_ son before _I_ did?"

"No. Well…yes, but you don't understand," Kila quickly blurted.

"Do I not? You discovered you were with child and ran off to tell Alistair about it. What part am I misunderstanding?" Zevran kept his voice controlled, but the building anger was obvious.

Kila's mind scrambled, running through what would be safe to say, "No, I mean I was scared and I just wanted to know if he maybe knew something..."

"But he did not have any brilliant insight? I am shocked." Sarcasm dripped from his words, "And yet again, you put the bond of taint ahead of the bond of life."

"No," she insisted, "It's not like that!"

Smoothly he cut her off again, "Tell me then, whom do you turn to any time there is doubt or a problem? Your husband? No. Alistair. He sits upon his high horse, dispensing bits of advice…which in case you have not picked up on by now is usually repeating whatever it is _you_ say. Then he is gone, leaving you to do the actual work. In turn, leaving me to be the one helping you. Just like a true King…"

"Are you…jealous?" she asked, trying to understand the anger.

"_Jealous_? Have I complained? No. I understand my place in this sad little triangle when it comes to Warden business. But that is my place for _warden _business. It absolutely should not be my place for _our _business!"

Kila had never heard him speak to her with such a biting tone, but she couldn't back down. "No. You _don't_ understand. My whole world is nothing but Warden business. I can't live where I want, it must be here. I can't do what I want, I must rebuild. I can't even briefly escape, I must go on another tireless hunting excursion. I have no choice in this, and you're just as trapped by it for wanting to be with me…"

"_Trapped_?" he sputtered, "I have never, in my life, been more free and you see me as a helpless, trapped man? I ask, if not here, then where? If not this, than what? Do not pin your feelings on me _dear_, clearly it is not just a brief escape you long for."

Her jaw set in determination as she continued, trying to finish her point, "I don't mean it that way. Just once, I wanted to offer you something pure…"

The anger was showing on his face as much as in his words, even though he refrained from raising his voice, "How can you not see this? It was not for you to deal with in secret, it was for us to face together! We vowed to live together as one, and yet you cast me aside. I should not have to endure this regarding _my_ flesh and blood!"

Still failing to make her point, she pressed on, "I wanted to find out if I could offer you a pure son, not something laced with more Warden problems…"

Finally, his fury broke through, "_My son is not a warden problem!_"

His last words rang through the room, and she pursed her lips to keep from yelling back. He was hurt, and he was right. "I'm sorry," she offered

"_Sorry?!_" He turned from her and grabbed the ink vial from her desk. In a swift, hard motion, he hurled it across the room to smash into the far stone wall. It brilliantly shattered with a sharp crack and the broken pieces showered to the floor. The ink slowly dripped down the wall, leaving an angry black stain in its wake, forever marking the day that Zevran Arainai lost his temper.

He shook the image from his mind and looked down at his hand. His fingers were still tightly curled around the vial and the wall stood clean. With effort, he eased his fingers off the vial and let it drop back onto the desk unharmed.

"Zevran, please," she begged, her pride giving away to her desperation to fix this.

"No," he said simply as he roughly brushed her hand away. Without looking back, he strode from the room. The heavy wooden door shut behind him with a dull thud.

Kila wanted to chase after him, but stood frozen to the ground, staring at the door. Her disbelief dissolved into the realization that he left. He had brushed her away and he had walked out. Her mind frantically replayed, trying to piece it together, trying to find a solution. It shocked her to see him so angry, but broke her heart that she was the cause. She was the cause. Tears came quickly through the fog of scrambled confusion.

The adrenaline from the last few moments hit her hard as she felt her legs buckled under her. She clutched the edge of her desk as a cry bubbled out from her mouth. Her tears blurred her vision and slowly she became aware of the cold stone under her knees. The tangible feeling was a welcome relief in the sudden haze that fell over her. _This can't be happening._

Her despair filled the room. It was her only companion. It was the only presence that could stand her thoughtless betrayals. The walls pressed in, mocking her as she sobbed on the floor.

She didn't see the door reopen. She didn't hear the footsteps crossing the room. She didn't even sense the person kneeling down before her. But he was there.

The anger was still faintly on his face, but his features were more touched with concern. Silently, he kissed her forehead, and pulled her protectively to his chest. He shushed away the apologies she attempted to offer as he rested his cheek against her hair.

Only the moon watched as the pair fell into silence and simply found comfort holding one another on the cold, stone floor of the study.


	7. The Spar

_**Author's Note:** Thank you all for your comments and support. I can't even express how much that has meant to me! Hope you enjoy..._

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The strain of his muscles, the air rushing past his arms, the satisfying crack as the waster smashed into the dummy…these were the only things that existed. It was only in moments like this that Zevran was able to keep his head clear as of late. As soon as the swinging stopped, the overwhelming thoughts cluttered his mind again.

The dummy took quite an assault as Zevran continued to relentlessly hack at it. He, of course, had a certain amount of flair with each swing, but less than usual. Technique was unimportant, what mattered was satisfying the primal urge of hitting something with a stick. The dummy was ungracefully slammed around, as was its supporting post; in a credit to the crafter who erected it, the equipment did not break.

He had dismissed his class after their daily physical training. The world would not end with one missed class. From personal experience, he knew even the near-end of the world required much more impressive means.

The coolness of the morning sun had given away to a more brazen heat as it beat down into the almost-empty training grounds. A fine layer of sweat was forming on the elf's bronze skin, but the discomfort did not stop him. His bare torso glistened in the sun as his lean, defined muscles accented every motion. Even as he mindlessly chopped at the dummy there was still a remarkable, almost feline, fluidity to him. Finally, he did pause to wipe the sweat away from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"It is easy to pick on a dummy that will not fight back. I wonder how you would do against a live target," a voice mused from behind him.

Before the sentence was finished, Zevran had spun around. Standing before him was a stunning redheaded woman greeting him with a warm smile. "Leliana!" he exclaimed and stepped towards her with his arms open.

She took a quick step back, pulling a waster from behind her. Her warm smile turned mischievous as she raised the practice sword to a defensive pose. "On your guard," she demanded.

His breath was heavy from his abuse on the dummy, but his smile twisted into a playful smirk as he gave a half nod and obliged. Raising his wooden sword, he took a side step, which she mirrored, starting them into slowly circling each other. They were both at a disadvantage with the two-handed wasters, each preferring short swords or daggers. But, the rogues were capable enough with almost any weapon especially for a light-hearted spar. As he carefully stepped to the side, he commented, "When I last heard news of you, you were Orlais my dear. I am surprised to see you here."

"When you last heard, I _was_ in Orlais," she agreed. "Is there something wrong with paying my friends a visit?" Her last words were almost cut off as she lunged forward, sweeping her sword diagonally before her. Zevran easily leaned away, letting the waster swing harmlessly past him. It was close; he did feel the air stir over his chest.

Straightening and taking a step back, he grinned, "Not in the least, the more beautiful women in Ferelden, the better I should think." He charged towards her with a lazy stab. She effortlessly sidestepped with a spin in a move that was more dance than dodge. As she completed her spin, she swung her sword with her, meaning to catch Zevran in the back as he passed. However, he had already turned, much to her surprise, meeting her sword with his. In the back of her mind, it registered she had fallen for his ruse.

He let her back off without hassle. It was too soon for the fun to end. They resumed circling each other. "When did you arrive in the city?"

"Only just yesterday," she replied. "Wynne would not let me rest today until I came by here though," Leliana laughed. Her laughter was the soft tinkling of little bells dancing and floating gently on a breeze…it was as distracting as it was uplifting. Zevran suddenly felt a sting as Leliana flicked her sword up and caught him on the hand, bringing him back to reality. He shook his head, and frowned at his hand giving it a shake also.

"Oh, and how she bites!" he exclaimed, making light of his mistake._ Damned bards_.

"I wouldn't if you would pay attention," she knowingly taunted.

"So Wynne at the royal estate then?" he repeated, "I would assume that between her and Alistair you have been made aware of our news?"

Leliana nodded, "Of course, why else would Wynne be so insistent? I came by to congratulate you both, but Dilwyn tells me Kila is not here?"

Casually, Zevran shrugged, "I may have _accidentally_ let it slip to Shianni how hard Kila was working. Naturally, she insisted Kila stay with her at the Alienage for a couple days."

"Oh yes, you and your well known carelessness. I bet Kila was pleased."

"Perhaps not, but doing the right thing is not necessarily doing the most favoured thing. I would rather have her angry with me and resting then happily working herself to an early grave." His voice took on a soft tone as he thought back to the indignation in Kila's eyes while he talked to her cousin about her excessive working. They had gone to the Alienage together to give her family the good news – both deciding to keep the taint concerns from them for now. Little did she realize he had secretly packed her a bag with the intention of forcing on her a small vacation.

"So noble," she teased, "I hardly know you anymore!"

"What can I say? She is my delicate flower and should rest in her condition. She was particularly pleased to be referred to in such a way might I add."

"And there is the Zevran I know," Leliana chuckled as she rushed towards him. Zevran did the same and they met in centre. Loudly, the wooden swords cracked as they struck and quickly locked - each trying to overpower the other. Leliana had the height, but Zevran was strong. Their faces were inches apart as each struggled to gain the advantage.

"Know and love?" he finally asked as they stood toe to toe.

Leliana lost her concentration with a sudden laugh. She rolled her eyes and bounced back a step. She gave Zevran a smile, it was nice to hear him joke and talk of Kila's family as his own. But even as she smiled, her eyes carried a pensive look. It was a look Zevran was becoming all too familiar with, everyone around him carrying a similar expression.

He lowered his sword slightly. "Ah. You know it _all_ then," he identified. She nodded, wincing slightly and wishing she were not so transparent. The energy around him went from robust to lifeless even as he tried to brush it off. His brief refuge with levity was over.

In one more exchange, the pair stepped towards one another. As their swords met near their hilts, Leliana reached forward and caught Zevran's wrists. With a quick twist, she both forced the waster from his hand and his body to roll with the movement. In the one swift motion, Zevran landed in the grass.

In shock, Leliana stared down at him. This was not their first spar, and she had never been able to best him. He had always been too quick for such throw. Had he just given up? That thought was as unsettling to her as her sudden win.

Even as Zevran lay sprawled on the ground, he still somehow managed to look graceful. Unconcerned with losing the spar, he propped himself up on one elbow and grabbed a blade of grass with his free hand. Without looking up, he began meticulously shredding the grass blade, making no move to get back on his feet. "She has asked me to kill it you know," he finally said after several moments.

Leliana tossed her waster onto the ground near his and sat cross-legged in the grass across from him. Carefully she asked, "Oh?"

He glanced up at her and hastily filled in the blank, "If it is born an abomination." Wynne would have scolded him for the incorrect use of the word but Leliana would be more forgiving. "If what she bears is not a child but a darkspawn or…just hindered from the taint, she made me swear to her that I would kill it."

None of her famous abilities as a wordsmith came to her aid as she stared hard at the elf. He had already looked back down to the grass blade in his hands, and she watched him focus all his attention. "And how do _you_ feel about that?" she cringed at her generic choice of a question.

His shoulders rose and fell as his lips turned to a frown, "I fear that no matter what I do, if our son is not perfect, it will be her absolute undoing. The guilt will be too much for her to bear and..."

Leliana picked up where his words trailed off. "Oh, I don't know about that. It might be extremely difficult, but Kila is a remarkably strong woman, Zevran," she reminded him.

He shook his head and finally looked back up. Though he would never admit to such a thing, his eyes had a muted hint of desperation to them, "No, my dear Leliana. You did not see her that night with Ruck."

She chewed the inside of her cheek and dipped her head in acknowledgment. The night the group was finally reunited outside of Orzammar, Alistair had taken Leliana aside and told her of what happened. In a hushed voice, he recounted the loss of the taint-addled dwarf and the complete break-down of their fearless leader. His eyes were deeply troubled as he told her the story. It was easy to see the eerie night had haunted them all in different ways.

Suddenly, he crumpled the blade of grass as his hand balled into a helpless fist, "I just cannot fathom how such a thing could be allowed to happen. After all she has done for the sake of this land, why would she be forced to suffer now?"

Leliana paused for a moment. Zevran was a religious man, a fact he often kept to himself, so this statement was not surprising. It is difficult times that bring about questions of faith, "Being from Antiva, you may have seen rugs and tapestries similar to those in Orlais." Zevran cocked his head to the side, surprised at the sudden change in topic. "Some are so grand that they are considered works of art, as amazing as any painting. Often in Orlais, the weavers would set up together in public places like the market or a large hall. As a young girl, I enjoyed watching these weavers and it would always amaze me to see the tapestry unfold because as beautiful as they ended up, they rarely started that way. I remember thinking different colours clashed, or the start of the pattern was just hideous. And yet as the weavers' vision comes to life, it became a thing of beauty. I do not think the Maker is so different. Wonderful and terrible things happen, sometimes what starts out wrong turns out right, and in the end it all comes together creating our lives. It is difficult, if not impossible, for us to see the larger picture, and all we can do is trust that the Maker has a plan."

Zevran slowly nodded. It did not bring him peace, but it made sense. With a sigh, he said the words that sat so heavily in his heart, "Leliana...I may actually lose her…"

The cheery sun had almost become an insult to the suddenly dark mood in the training ground. As much as Leliana cherished her precious words, even she realized there was a time and place for an understanding silence. In a wordless acknowledgement of her friend, Leliana reached over and squeezed his shoulder as he quietly fell into the thoughts he had been trying so hard to keep at bay.


	8. The Vacation

_**Author's Note: **__ Taking more liberties with the game's story line (although it might have gone unnoticed if I didn't say anything) Valendrian and Valora are both safe and sound at home. Also I realize Valora's children aren't exactly Kila's niece and nephew seeing as how she is married to Kila's cousin, but they grew up close like siblings, so it works…_

It was a modest room in a modest house. The floors were worn and bare, the wooden furniture was creaky, the curtains were faded, and the small fireplace was charred and black. But it was home and bursting with love. Kila's cousin, Shianni was across the table from her and between them was a sack filled with pea pods. Kila's toes were curled into Tolan's fur as he faithfully sat at her feet, nipping at any food that fell while the two women chatted and shelled the peas. Sitting with them, further back from the table, was Shianni's sister in law, Valora and in her arms rested her small babe, Lena. Valora's young toddler, Maxon made his rounds between the women and the dog, giggling to himself as he crawled.

Both Cyrion and Soris, Kila's father and cousin, were working outside, passing through the house occasionally. The Alienage was still rebuilding from the Blight and even with help dispatched from the King, there was always a project or two on the go. Life here may not be teeming with riches, but it was comfortable, and Kila could understand her father's refusal to move to the estate with her. Tolan let out a contented sigh as he rested his head on his paws, evidentially feeling at home here too.

Shianni's mocking cries echoed in the room as she exaggeratedly flailed her arms, "_Get them out, get them out_ she screamed as she leapt all over her own furniture. It was almost impossible to keep a straight face as this hoity snob kept shrieking like a mad woman. Of course that made the rats wild and they were even harder to get!"

Kila smiled as she remembered, "She never talked down to us after we came to the rescue and 'liberated' her store. I wonder if she ever found out we were the ones to let them lose in the first place…it was almost criminal what they paid us to catch them."

"Criminal? Those rats were nearly impossible to gather on the street…we worked hard for every single bit that day!" Shianni grinned at Kila who returned a subdued chuckle.

Eventually, the chatter died down and the women continued with their chore in silence. Kila snuck in a few glances at Valora with her infant. Soris' marriage to her had been arranged, as all marriages between the Alienages were. When they first met, he was disappointed that she was not pretty, and at the time Kila could only suggest she might at least have a great personality. Looking at Valora now though, she seemed lovelier than Kila remembered from that day. Family life certainly seemed to agree with her and she had a very fine looking family.

Finally Shianni started a new conversation; she never was able to be quiet for long. This time she started on about a man she met while working with Alistair's royal advisors. "He is one of the kitchen staff, but oh, is he dreamy! He's got light brown hair and these soft green eyes. I swear Ki, he can smile just through his eyes. He might be stopping by, I really hope you get to meet him," she spoke as excitedly as a school girl.

Kila smiled kindly and nodded towards Shianni, acknowledging the news. Shianni started to frown at the lack of enthusiasm and Kila quickly added, "That's wonderful Shi, I do hope he stops by while I'm here." Her tone was calm, but sincere.

Another quiet moment passed by before Shianni spoke up again. She sighed as she spoke, her former eagerness gone, "I just have to say this…you've changed Kila." Kila looked up from the stem she was in the process of snapping. Her eyebrow arched in question. "You're cold," Shianni replied to the inquisitive look.

"What?" Kila asked, the surprise clear.

Shianni nodded as she insisted, "No, really!" She looked to Valora for support, who in turn looked down at her infant, politely refusing to get involved.

Realizing she was on her own, Shianni continued, "You're so different now. I remember a warm, passionate girl who wore her heart on her sleeve but wouldn't take garbage from anyone. We used to do such dumb things too, just for the fun and challenge of getting ourselves back out of whatever situation we caused. Like…" she started to chuckle, "like the time we nipped some sweets from Alarith's store and managed to convince Soris _he_ did it."

Kila smiled to herself, remembering the baffled look on Soris's face as they fed him some story of how he must have put them in his bag days before and forgotten about it, accidentally taking them home. Eventually, he went to Alarith with the coin and an apology! Her smile faded as she fingered the tiny vial hanging from her neck. It was called the Warden's Oath and contained a trace of the darkspawn blood from her Joining ritual. At times there was hardly a thought given to the pendant, and others it felt like a noose around her neck. "I grew up," she answered simply.

"And I haven't?" Shianni's voice rose slightly with offence. "Between the attacks at the wedding, having my best friend hauled off by some human, the rioting, the sickness, losing friends to the slavers… not to mention the darkspawn attack that destroyed half the Alienage I had no choice but to grow up too Kila. You weren't the only one who saw dark times." Finally she seemed to bite her tongue and looked down at the mangled pea pod in her hand.

"I wasn't saying you didn't…" Kila began to apologize but Shianni waved her hand dismissively.

"No, I know Ki.," Shianni was calm, and her voice suddenly took on an air of maturity, "I just meant…I am an adult. I have been through dark times. I serve as an advisor to the King to improve the situation for all the Alienages. I am trusted and respected by both elves and humans…and I have a responsibility to them both. But I am still me. I still have my heart on my sleeve, I'm still full of energy, and still take the time to enjoy…well, life. But you…you don't even notice the little things anymore." As she finished her thought, she made her point by gesturing at little Maxon who was hung up on Tolan, trying desperately to get his aunt's attention.

Kila looked down and saw Maxon finally sit down in front of Tolan, who in turned sniffed and licked up the centre of the toddler's face. Maxon shrieked with laughter and both Valora and Shianni chuckled. Kila caught herself wrinkling her nose at the slobber-laden child who was now tugging the hem of her skirt and staring up at her with adoring eyes. Maybe Shianni was right; maybe she was cold. She reached down and pried his fingers from her clothes, replacing it with an empty pea pod. Instantly he started chewing and Tolan was considerate enough to leave the food in his little fingers.

She turned back and grabbed another pod from the sack. With a sigh she admitted, "You're probably right Shianni. I suppose battle changes a person."

Instantly, Shianni objected as she tucked her fiery red hair behind her pointed ear, "There was violence here Kila. You weren't here, but we lost many in the riots even before the darkspawn came."

"But in all of this, how many lives did _you_ take Shianni?" The question darted from Kila's mouth sharper than she meant it.

Shianni lowered her eyes to the table for a moment. "But those were just darkspawn that you killed…"

Kila shook her head, "Not all of them, no. There were humans, dwarves…elves…" Shianni eyebrows furrowed together at the mention of their own kind. Kila never spoke to them of her time away; there was so much horror to protect her family from. "We made a lot of enemies. But sometimes it wasn't even enemies we had to kill; sometimes all we could do to grant darkspawn victims peace was give them a quick death. Could you do that and remain unscathed?"

She tried to keep the memories at bay, but the widow's face flashed before her, screaming, crying, begging Kila to save her husband as he lay on the ground, slashed open and bleeding. His injuries were too severe, and the taint was in his blood forcing him to suffer in indescribable agony. She gestured to Zevran to finish the man as the widow flew into a frenzy…

A squeeze on her hand brought Kila back. Shianni was reaching across the table and holding her hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered. _Sorry for what happened. Sorry for bringing it up._

Kila gave her an empty smile, "Me too Shi." She paused a moment to look into her cousin's eyes, "I think I was lost with my first kill…which, well you know, it was before I even left the Alienage. But it never got easier. I did it with the hope of sparing you all a similar fate – I kept killing so you wouldn't have to, defeat it before it made its way to my home. Maybe it sounds foolish, but it kept me going. In the end though, I don't think all of me came back. I think with each life I took, darkspawn or not, a piece of me died too. Mother tried to explain it to me once but…"

Kila broke the hand contact, and continued with the peas. In a more confident voice she continued, "It is good in a way. Thinking with just my heart made me a bad leader – I was too volatile. You're in a leadership role where your passion rallies people to your cause. But when you're leading men into battle, and possibly their own death, you need to be calculating and self assured. They need to be able to have confidence in you and believe you have the ability to get them through the battle alive. It's hard to instil that when one is flouncing around like a giggly…or broody, unstable pup." She shrugged. It was almost embarrassing to think back at how emotional she was at the beginning of it all. Truly it was a wonder anyone followed her to market much less through life endangering situations.

For once, Shianni had nothing to add. Kila felt another tug at the hem of her dress. She looked back down at Maxon who discarded the pod and was using her leg to try and pull himself up. Kila leaned down so she was as close to his eye level as she could get, "Can I help you with something?"

He looked up at her, and his chubby cheeks were perfectly round from his big smile, "Auntiki," he proudly said to her.

She frowned at him and finally asked, "What?" 

He was standing by this point, holding on to her knee. Slowly he let go of her leg and wobbled as he reached his arms towards her, "Up!" he exclaimed, almost falling over.

With another frown and a sigh she picked him up and set him on her lap so he was facing her. His eyes were bright and excited as he scanned over all the features of her face like he was trying to memorize her. "You know," she lightly jabbed his little chest with her finger as she gently chided, "There are two other women and a dog who would be happy to have you crawling over all over them."

In response, Maxon grabbed her finger and turned her hand over to look at her palm. For a few moments he explored her hand with his own fingers, and of course, his mouth. As huffy as Kila tried to be with him, he easily deflected it with his cheeriness and persistence. She could see the intelligence in his eyes as he carefully inspected everything, her hand, her sleeve, and the bits of hair that fell from her loosely swept bun. He was giving everything deep consideration. Kila couldn't help but smile. Finally though, he began to squirm so she turned him around to help him slide off her lap.

Instead of leaving her, however, Maxon flopped his little body back to rest his head on Kila's chest. Apparently content with resting on his Aunt, Maxon stopped fidgeting and popped his thumb in his mouth. Kila chuckled and absently started stroking his soft brown hair as he nestled into her. She could feel something stir within her as she smiled to herself. Never before had she noticed how sweet Maxon's hair smelled, or how soft his skin was…

Finally, Kila looked up from her nephew and cleared her throat when she realized the two women were watching her. They both quickly averted their stare and tried to hide the grins on their faces.

For the first time that afternoon, Valora finally spoke up as she stared down at Lena, "If taking a life from this world costs you a piece of yourself, then perhaps bringing a life into it will return part of you."

Kila silently leaned back into her chair, contemplating Valora's words as she felt the gentle rise and fall of Maxon's chest. Valora smiled knowingly at her beautiful Lena, knowing full well she was right.


	9. The Confession

_**Author's Note:** Okay kind of an emptyish chapter, but it's going somewhere...well ultimately on another story hijack, but I can't help it!_

It was shortly after midday when Kila finally managed to sneak away. It was difficult to relax in a small house that was constantly bustling with action – getting the men ready for their day, preparing food, tending to the children, greeting well-wishers…it was an exhausting vacation. But in secret, Kila wouldn't trade a moment of it. With Shianni finally off to her meeting with the advisors and Valora putting the little ones down for their nap, Kila was able to have some down time.

Tolan plodded along beside her as she walked through the Alienage. Every building offered her another set of memories, some less pleasant than others. _Do you hear me Ser William, Ser William?_ She involuntarily shuddered as she passed the orphanage.

Breaking the silence, Kila sighed, "Tolan, am I cold?" Tolan perked his ears and whined. She continued, "Yesterday Shianni said I was. I know I've changed but…cold?"

Tolan huffed loudly as they casually walked down the road. She reached over and patted his head, "Thanks. I didn't think so either."

Throughout the Alienage there were many platforms that served as a small deck to multiple buildings. There was one in particular that she often found herself at as a child. It belonged to an abandoned building, but it gave her access to a little perch, from which she could see the tops of the taller buildings in Denerim beyond the Alienage wall. It also gave her a good view of the Alienage. When she was in a contemplative mood, she would sit on this small platform, peering into both worlds and getting lost in thought.

The pair stopped moving as they reached this platform. Kila turned to face Tolan and leaned back against the wooden boards. "Besides," she added with a hint of bitterness, "If I _were_ cold, maybe I would stop skirting around my Wardenly duties."

Tolan cocked his head to the side and gave a low whine. She smiled and shook her head, "Oh never mind that. Why don't you go for a run? There's plenty of space here and you haven't gotten out in a few days now." Happily, he barked and hopped in a circle. "No, I just want to sit here for a while." Tolan snorted. "Go," she urged, chuckling at him.

Finally Tolan turned to go as Kila climbed the stairs of the platform. "Stay out of trouble," she called to him. He turned back and contently barked. "I mean it," she warned, "one complaint and no treats for a week!" Tolan snorted and lowered his head. "Not one. Stay out of trouble!" Finally he excitedly barked and took off running. Within a few short strides, his ears were happily flapping behind him.

She smiled as she watched him run. He stood up to her chest and could tear a darkspawn in half, but she knew she could trust him to be respectful to her kinfolk.

Effortlessly climbing on to her perch, she listened to the noises of the Alienage. It was easy to feel at home here, and in solitude she could feel more like herself again. There was no one to protect or be strong for. One leg dangled over the side, while she wrapped her arms around the other. Luckily, the simple blue dress she wore was loose enough to drape and force modesty on her as she sat in her unladylike pose. Resting her chin on her knee, she sighed.

She was well aware that she was shirking her duties as the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. It was up to her to rebuild the order, and yet she had Warden Allies with no Wardens. Now, with a child on the way, she was putting the Ferelden order in a delicate situation – how fit would she be guide others through the Joining? With Alistair unable to officially be involved in such a thing, that only left getting help from Orlais. They had wanted their order to be independent, but if Valora was correct and having a child would make her even softer, they would have no choice but to rely on another order.

Absently she picked at a loose thread in her dress. There was nothing fancy about it, but it was a shade of blue that matched her sparkling eyes. She was a striking elf, and at times like this with her fair hair flowing and her beauty radiating, it was hard to imagine her dripping with blood and standing over the carcass of an unfortunate darkspawn. With a heavy sigh, she leaned back against the wall and brought her hand up to her temple. Her head spun with many sets of concerns. The Maker must be cruel or have an unusual sense of humour when he set her on this path. There had to be people out there who would be better suited for it all – who wouldn't have to struggle so much just to rise to the occasion.

As she stared out over the Alienage, her mind took her back to the first few months following the Blight when people first started arriving at the Howe's estate, looking to join the glorious order of the Wardens.

"_If you are still interested four seasons from now, come back. I am not ready for you."_

This is what she told everyone in that first year. She needed time to prepare and with Zevran returning to Antiva to free them from the threat of the Crows, Kila was uninteresting in having strangers about. She took that year to build up the people that would work with her – friends, family, and associates. It was an extremely labourous year, filled with much toil, heartache, and worry. By the time those she had dismissed returned however, she was prepared. Zevran was back and safe, grounds were arranged, equipment was set up, provisions were gathered, and plans were drawn.

With the first batch of recruits, there were three young men that stood out among the rest: Jace, Mikel, and Garon. They were not as seasoned as her or Zevran, but they clearly had been trained before their arrival. Among the recruits, Jace naturally ended up in the leadership role, quickly earning the respect of his peers. Mikel was unsurpassed by his fellow recruits in the way of stealth and Garon had no equal in the melee practices.

After discussing them with Alistair, he and Kila quickly decided they would be the first to undergo the Joining. "I know it's in poor form to ask this but…would you be with me for this?" Kila asked Alistair.

In the very early planning stages, it was decided that Alistair would be in a strictly advisory role. Not only would serving Ferelden leave him unable to commit to anything more, but they had to avoid the appearance of the Warden order influencing the Royal command.

"Of course I will," Alistair agreed readily, almost surprised it was even in question. "I planned to give you a week's head start before I leave with my own men to avoid suspicion. There are still sightings near the Kocari Wilds, not far from Lothering. A week should be long enough for you and the recruits to get to the Wilds, track down some darkspawn, and meet me in Lothering. Does that work for you?"

"Easy peasy, huh?" she asked warily.

Alistair flashed Kila a smile, "Of course."

"Well, thank you," she dropped the jokes, "I was worried I would have to do this on my own…and I'm just not sure I can." Remembering back to her own Joining, she knew in her heart that she wasn't ready to fill Duncan's shoes alone.

"We're in this together," he reminded her. "Besides, you expect me to miss all the fun?"

Kila always seemed to harbour the personal belief that in many ways, she was on her own. However, between Alistair, Zevran and the others, she was shown time and time again that this was not the case.

Although Zevran was disappointed with Kila leaving so soon after his return, he understood. He didn't push to accompany her, nor did he pry for details. He simply helped her pack and assured her that he would keep the Warden estate running smoothly in her absence.

"You run along and take care of your Warden duties; I shall be here when you return, yes? I expect you to return promptly, however. A wedding _will_ be taking place, and I should very much like it to be with you," he teased.

"Oh I'm sure you could have your pick of wives if you get tired of waiting."

The smile dropped from his face as he moved in, fiercely setting his lips upon hers. As he pulled away, leaving her breathless as usual, he firmly said to her, "I am not interested in _a_ wife; I am interested in you, my Ki."

Resting her forehead on his, she replied, "Well then I guess I'd better hurry home…"

_**AN:** To be continued...._


	10. The Memories

_**Author's Note:** Sorry for any mistakes you find. I've been sick for a bit now, but really wanted to get this out!_

The journey to the Wilds was uneventful. There were no darkspawn about, and if there were bandits, they wisely chose to steer clear of the well-armed group of fighters. Even so, Kila found just being on the road again was welcoming…much more freeing than pulling together the Warden's estate. She often caught herself thinking back to the travels during the Blight, and there were times where she fiercely missed her former companions. With all the bustle of getting her new life in order, she didn't realize how much she missed the little things. She longed to hear a witty quip from Morrigan, a drunken rant by Oghren, or even a sobering lecture from Sten.

She had to shake these thoughts from her mind and focus on the men before her. They pressed on tirelessly during the day and cautiously unwound in the evenings. It did not take long for her to recognize the solid group they created – not only did their various battle skills compliment one another, but their personalities did as well.

"The stew is almost ready," Garon announced, giving the pot one more stir. He was a large man with short hair and big ears that complimented his child-like manner. It was rare to see him without his smile, and Kila could easily picture him beating down a darkspawn with nothing but a shield and gleeful grin.

"Rabbit meat in boiled water hardly qualifies as stew," Jace joked. His chiseled jaw, feathered brown hair, and perfect smile sent most of the women on Kila's staff swooning. Even Shianni let her know how jealous she was that Kila was going alone with the men. Between his attractive looks and charismatic charms, it was hard to say no to Jace – man or woman. It would be no challenge for him to lead a team of Allies.

"Hey!" Garon griped, "I don't see you making anything to eat!"

Jace laughed heartily, "Well, that's because I can't cook! At least I admit it." He winked at Kila as he continued to push Garon's buttons. She just shook her head and laughed quietly to herself.

Mikel was slightly removed from the group, making sure the tents were ready while there was still light to see by. Most of the women were interested in Jace, but Kila found Mikel very remarkable in his own way. His raven black hair and narrow features gave him a graceful, animalistic look. He wasn't as social as the others, but he was the first to make sure the group was set and organized in anything they were doing. No darkspawn would stand a chance against any set of traps this man set.

"Alright, save it for the darkspawn boys," Kila finally stepped in, not mentioning that she agreed with Jace's good hearted ribbing and mostly stuck to bread herself.

"When do we get to fight a darkspawn anyhow?" Garon asked.

"So eager are you?" Kila asked with a sudden sombreness. "Well, you won't have to wait much longer. We're only a couple days from the Kocari Wilds where they broke through the surface with the highest numbers. I'm sure we'll find some leftovers easily enough."

Kila was right. Within a day of travel, they came across a small group of them in the outlying boarders of Lothering before even reaching the heart of the Wilds.

In the lead, Kila suddenly she froze, forcing the men to stop short. She raised her hand, signalling for silence as she scanned the trees along the path. The familiar sensation coursed through her body as she recognized the nearby taint. Finally, in a hushed voice she ordered, "Be ready…they're here."

Quickly, Mikel seemed to melt away into the trees that led up to the ridge above the path as Garon and Jace readied their weapons.

The familiarity of impending battle elated her sorely ignored inner warrior. A cocky smirk spread across her face as Kila sauntered on. Around the bend in the path, the group of darkspawn came into view; there were six that she could see. Pulling her bow from her back, she aimed her arrow. "Did you miss me boys?" she taunted loudly and they all turned towards her.

Suddenly, a flask flew down into the middle of the creatures from the trees above. Shattering when it hit, the air-exposed chemicals loudly exploded and a thick, green cloud of poison rose up. The darkspawn immediately began gasping for breath and scattered away in confusion.

"Well I missed you!" she cried as she shot her arrow into the chest of a scrambling genlock – its flimsy armour easily pierced. As she quickly fired follow-up shots, Garon and Jace ran past on either side of her, eager to meet the threat head on.

Garon bellowed loudly and swung his shield upward, smashing into a hurlock's face as it blindly ran. Blood spurted from its broken nose as he followed up with a shoulder slam, knocking the dazed darkspawn to the ground. "This is easy!" Garon howled with laughter.

Jace's target was ready for him, having moved out of the cloud before it became too affected. The first swing of his sword was met by the metal of the darkspawn's weapon with a sharp clang. Jace quickly shook off his surprise and ducked behind his shield as the hurlock thrust its sword forward. That blow easily glanced off his shield, but as Jace moved to strike with his sword, the hurlock howled and turned from Jace to claw at its foot. Jace glanced down and saw an arrow that pierced its foot and was pinning it into the ground. Not missing the opportunity, he swung his sword powerfully down into the shoulder of the hurlock's weapon arm, firmly lodging the blade into its collarbone. It wailed in pain, swinging its good arm wildly. Jace bashed his shield into the hurlock's face, using that to brace against the darkspawn and pull his sword back out. With one final bash of his shield, the hulock fell as blood gurgled out from the deep gash in its shoulder.

Jace stabbed his sword down through the darkspawn's forehead, cracking through the skull. It stopped struggling.

Kila quickly surveyed the battle, and she couldn't help but smile. Garon was busy pummelling a hapless genlock, Jace had taken down his first darkspawn, and Mikel was in the trees, likely causing more damage than they would ever come to know. They all seemed to fall into place just how she imagined they would. Letting an arrow fly, she pinned a genlock that was scrambling into position with its own bow. "Oh no you don't," she muttered under her breath.

Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of Kila's lungs as a powerful force violently knocked her off balance. She flew back and landed hard on the dirt path. Her world went black.

It was Jace who heard her cry out and he turned in time to see her crashing into the ground, smashing her head as she landed. "Kila!" he shouted as he moved to rush to her side.

A grunt forced him to spin back as a hurlock bore down on him. With an angry shout, he readied his shield…but the hurlock suddenly stopped advancing. It stumbled one more step and gave a long groan as it fell face-first to the ground. Behind where it stood, Jace saw Mikel nod towards him before disappearing back into the trees. A dagger stood proudly from the back of the hurlock's neck – its spinal cord had been severed.

It was the adrenaline still coursing through her veins that quickly woke Kila. Shaking the cobwebs from her head, she pulled herself back on her feet and steadied herself with her bow. Looking the direction the force came from, she spotted something emerging from the bushes. There were crude spikes jutting up from its headpiece in a decorative manner. She was stunned to realize it was a hurlock emissary – something she never expected to see outside of a Blight.

There wasn't time to question. It stared at her from across the battlefield and she narrowed her eyes in return. Its magic would easily beat her arrows. Readying her bow, she nonetheless sent arrows flying as she confidently advanced across the cramped battlefield. Most of them were easily deflected by the emissary, but at that least kept it busy. Suddenly, the emissary shrieked and grabbed at its thigh, where a dagger was firmly sunk into its flesh. Angrily, it turned its attention towards the tree line and with a forceful gesture sent a ball of electricity sailing towards the ridge. She sent a silent plea for Mikel to move.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Kila dropped her bow and pulled out her short sword and dagger. As she made her last few strides, she twirled the blades, getting used to their weight. By the time the emissary turned its attention back to her, she was upon it. Her blades seemed to dance as they found small chinks in the armour to dig in. The emissary flinched and howled, but was not able to concentrate long enough to cast another spell. Her former cockiness had turned into a hardened determination as she quickly wore the emissary down.

Suddenly, another dagger sliced into the emissary from an unseen source – Mikel was fine. Spurred on by her recruit's safety, her movements picked up speed as a primal scream escaped her lips. Finally, in a fluid motion, she skewered its chest with one blade and violently slashed the other before her. The emissary's head fell from its body and rolled to a stop a few feet away. Quickly she pulled out her blade as the sudden deadweight threatened to pull her off balance.

Spinning around to attack another foe, Kila let out a war cry. Unfortunately for her, the only things left standing were her recruits. Mikel smoothly joined them as they stared at her, stunned by her display. Her breathing was heavy as she paced and she took a moment to calm herself. Finally looking back at her recruits and frowning at their stares, she tossed her small pouch of vials on the ground before them. "Get to filling these," she barked. The recruits quickly did as they were told, carefully filling each vial with the darkspawn blood before piling and burning the bodies.

They had cleaned themselves up before reaching Lothering. The town had almost been fully restored, but if the remaining town folk remembered Kila, they said nothing. Nonetheless they were greeted with politeness.

A messenger was at the tavern to greet the group, and briefly pulled Kila away from her recruits. After handing the bag of vials to the man, she came back to the table the recruits sat at. "Well boys, lucky thing we ran into those creatures today – it seems my associate is here much earlier than planned. In his eagerness I think he forgot that a week's head start on foot isn't a match for a traveling on horseback…" She chuckled as she mentally noted that Alistair deserved a good ribbing for that.

Garon interrupted, "You mean the King right?" he asked. It was well known he was the only other Ferelden Grey Warden.

Her lips drew into a tight line, "My associate," she repeated, refusing to confirm it was Alistair. "So tomorrow, we can proceed with the Joining. Which no, Garon, I'm not going into detail on," she stopped him before he could interrupt again. He closed his mouth. "But for now, I want you boys to relax and enjoy yourselves…there are plenty of ladies about. You have definitely earned it."

After a round of drinks together, the group disbursed. Garon found himself at the bar gaining quite a lot of attention for the copious amounts he was able to drink. Being such a heavy drinker was a badge of honour and a quick way to earn respect at a tavern. Fellow heavy drinkers settled in beside him, as did a few lady admirers. Together, they created most of the laughter that rang through the tavern, as even with the alcohol, Garon remained his loveable self.

Taking his usual spot away from the crowd, Mikel settled into a table in the far corner. Nursing his drinks, he was content with watching the people. Jace, however, had other plans in mind for him. Naturally, several young ladies vying for his attention surrounded Jace. He tried to indulge each lady with a moment or two of personal attention but finally, leaned over and whispered with one lovely woman, much to the dismay of the others. Soon, however, that woman left Jace's company and sought out Mikel. Shooting Jace a confused look, Mikel decided not to wave the woman away. Soon they were cozy in conversation together.

Silently, Kila watched each of her recruits find their niche at the tavern. It looked like each of them might even end up with company for the night. She sincerely hoped that would be the case, after all it could be the last night for some of them…

Lost in thought, Kila didn't notice Jace until he casually flopped himself into the chair next to Kila, flashing his usual smile. "And what are we drinking?" he asked.

He had caught her off guard, but trying not to show it, she raised a sceptical eyebrow at him, "More importantly, what are you doing here? There are plenty of pretty, young wenches who would very much like to spend time with you." Glancing past his shoulder, Kila could see the table of ladies that he walked away from. They were all glaring at her and whispering to each other.

"But _I_ would very much like to spend my time here," he declared.

Maintaining her sceptical look, she shook her head, "I am betrothed you know."

"To a man I deeply respect," he agreed. "I have had enough womanly affection to last a lifetime. I'm more interested in learning about you. After all, it's not often one gets to spend time with the great Hero of Ferelden. Seeing you in battle today…" For once he paused at a loss for words. Clearing his throat, he carried on, "I've never seen anything quite like it. If you would indulge me, I would really love to hear some of your adventures. I'll buy the rounds even!"

When she was first getting to know Zevran, she had asked to hear of his adventures. It struck her as odd to now be asked the same. Never before had she adventures to tell, but that was to be her evening with Jace. They exchanged stories and kept watch on their fellow companions, until Garon and Mikel eventually retired to rooms upstairs with their new lady friends.

_**AN: **To be continued...._


	11. The Memories Conclusion

_**Author's Note:**__ Sorry for skipping a week there – I was out of town but I'm back now! Hope you enjoy...  
_

It had been a slow moving morning, but despite how much ale Garon managed to pack away, he was cheery as usual. Even Mikel was in good spirits, his serious expression replaced with a wry smile. Kila wanted to return the good cheer, but her heart sat too heavily in her chest. Insistently, she rushed them through breakfast and set out on the road to meet Alistair. The recruits could not help but notice Kila's sudden coldness towards them, and it was not long before this set them on edge.

There were many ruins throughout the countryside in Ferelden. It was a harsh land, and the remains of fallen structures served as a testament. It was one of these ruins that would be the site of the ritual, and she followed the directions of Alistair's messenger.

Alistair sat on a section of crumbling stone, but quickly stood as the group approached, "It's about time you got here! I was getting bored out of my mind." Kila couldn't help but cringe at his utter lack of ceremony.

"Where are your men?" Kila asked, ignoring the whispers of the men behind her as it was clearly revealed they were correct – her associate was the King. As she moved towards Alistair, she gestured for the recruits to remain where they were. The men fell into a small huddle and naturally, it was Jace leading the hushed discussion.

As Kila approached, Alistair replied with a shrug, "They are not Grey Wardens." Alistair produced a flask and chalice from his pouch and with much care, they filled the chalice. Quietly, they discussed how to proceed before finally approaching the recruits who quickly dropped their huddle.

Ushering them into a circle, Kila's mind scrambled as the tried desperately to recall the words Duncan had spoken at her Joining. In the moments before they drank from the chalice, he had impressed upon her not only the importance of what would take place, but the sense of falling into a long line of tradition. It had been a moment of fear and honour, and although she had given it thought on the journey she was left unsure of how to create that moment for these men. Being unable to plan exactly what she would say, she instinctively knew these words would therefore be straight from the heart.

With a neutral expression, she straightened herself and took a moment to pass her gaze over each man. Although the morning had been rushed, a sudden stillness fell over them – even the air felt thick. She let the stillness sit for a moment longer, before finally breaking the silence in a commanding tone, "Each of you has volunteered to join our order. That is not why you are here however, as many have volunteered. You are here because each of you has shown admirable strengths and abilities that force you apart from your peers. You are special; something I'm sure you've been told in your past. It is this spark, this rising above the rest, that is necessary in our order for we _are_ the Grey Wardens. We are all that stands between these fair lands and the dark forces that would destroy it…"

She raised the silver chalice in a gesture, "Since the first one of our order to drink their blood and master their taint, so have we all. We become immune to their taint and use it to sense them. But we pay a heavy price to be what we are and fate may decree that you pay this price today." The men stared at her, not one of them daring to speak. Their faces drew tighter as the realization of her words sunk in. Turning to Alistair she nodded, "If you please…"

Clearing his throat, Alistair began, "Since the first, these words have been spoken at the ceremony: Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

As he spoke, Kila watched for their reactions. Their faces were as stony as hers. Briefly she wondered who might be in danger of trying to run, and her mind skipped back to Ser Jory. Beyond sidelong glances with one another, not one of them showed enough emotion for her to read. _They're not runners_. Solemnly, she turned to Garon, "Garon, you are to be first."

He gulped nervously, but stepped towards her and accepted the goblet. As he moved back to his spot, he looked to his companions for assurance. Jace nodded to him. With a deep breath, he took a large drink as a disgusted look crossed his face at the taste. Kila quickly took the cup from his hands.

With his last swallow, his reaction was almost instant. A deep gurgling erupted from his throat as he tried to breath. He stumbled back a step, wrapping his hands around his throat as his face twisted in horror. His eyes rolled back, while his back stiffened, forcing him to turn his face towards the sky. The animalistic gurgling became more hoarse as he lurched forward, suddenly falling to the ground causing the stone to shake. Weakly, he tried to push himself back up, but his arms gave out on him, and he fell to the ground again. Thick black liquid bubbled from his blue lips. It was as quick as it was horrifying.

Kila stared in revulsion, as did Mikel and Jace. She heard herself mumble her apologies to him, but silently her brain tried to process what she had seen. He didn't survive. It was fast but, his horror filled expression was burned into her mind. She tried to stop her thoughts, without numbness, this would be impossible. Allowing the numbness to sweep over her, she kept her face blank, she looked towards the recruits.

Mikel backed up one step, but his arm quickly met Jace's elbow as he nudged him back forward. Mikel nodded to himself, remaining in his spot. Although she still doubted any of them would run, she knew Mikel must be next. Willing her voice to stay even, she called Mikel forward, "Mikel, it is now your turn."

Hesitantly, he accepted the silver goblet. He stared deep into the dark liquid but remained quiet. Part of her desperately wanted to reach over and slap the chalice from him hand; send it smashing to the ground, spilling the vile liquid harmlessly on the rocks. _This isn't right._ Would Alistair really blame her? She glanced over at him for support, but he was staring intensely ahead acknowledging neither her look nor Mikel's hesitation.

Finally Mikel nodded again, finishing his silent prayer. Without making eye contact, Mikel took the liquid in his mouth and passed the cup back to Kila. Swallowing the poison, he had time for another deep breath before the taint assaulted him. Staggering, he hunched forward and gasped for air. Taking another step, sharp pains ran through his body, and like Garon, he stiffened, forcing himself to stand straight as his eyes rolled back. He let out a cry and fell forward on his hands and knees.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she tried desperately to blink them away. "I'm sorry Mikel," she whispered. Wheezing heavily, he crawled towards Kila before finally collapsing on the stones.

Her body started to shake uncontrollably as she stared down at Mikel's body. Clenching her jaw to keep from crying out, Kila looked to Alistair but he stared hard at the scene before him, again refusing to make eye contact. She took a steadying breath and at least tried to appear in control. Duncan was strong. She had no choice but to be strong. Swallowing hard she straightened and looked to Jace.

Looking from his fallen friends to the Grey Warden before him, he cocked his head to the side and tried to joke, "I…I don't know if this means my odds are better or worse…"

Solemnly Kila passed the chalice to Jace, "And now it is your turn."

Slowly, Jace accepted the chalice and brought it to his lips. He stopped and lowered it again, "Lady Kila…should this not work, should I not survive…I just want to say that it has been an honour. An incredible honour…"

She clenched her hands into tight fists, fighting the urge to stop him from drinking. Despite how much she wanted to acknowledge his words, her eyes stared forward – the slightest movement on her part would be her undoing. She now understood Alistair's stiffness. Without further hesitation, Jace downed some of the liquid and returned the chalice to her. Her heart was pounding as hard as his as she silently prayed for his safety. _Please. Please Maker. Let him live. _The world held its breath.

Finally, he started gagging as the others did. His fingers instantly clawed at his throat. Grunting in agony, his eyebrows furrowed together as he lost his balance and fell. Curling up, he pulled one hand up over his face as his eyes rolled back. Tightly he pulled his knees to his chest, trying to block out the pain, trying to spare her the horror of seeing his face, and suddenly he grew still.

She could not pull her eyes away – maybe he would get back up again. How could he have enough sense to hide his face and still succumb to the taint?? _Maybe…_

"I'm so…sorry…" she finally whispered; her voice cracking, betraying her. Trying to steady herself, she looked down at the three bodies before her. Dizziness overtook her as the reality of the situation came crashing down. They were gone.

Kila looked down at the chalice in her hand. _Murderer…_ Angrily, she threw it down onto the stone floor between the bodies. It hit with a piercing clash as the black, venomous liquid sloshed forth and stained the ground beneath it. Alistair flinched. The emptied chalice rolled before coming to a rest against Garon's hand.

In a daze, she spun away, barely turning in time before her stomach forcefully heaved. Her vomit splashed onto the stone. Finally stirring, Alistair took a step towards her, but she quickly straightened and cried out, "Maker's fury, _all of them_!?!" She turned to Alistair and pointed accusingly at him, "What shit _is_ this that not even _one_ survives?!"

He stopped mid-step and kept his distance. "I wish I knew Kila. It's chance…I have as much control over it as you do," he gently reminded her. They had become close friends, but looking at his dear friend now, with the fury and hurt in her eyes, all he could see was the angry elf Duncan forced to Ostagar. In a split second, he was no longer sure if his friend was there anymore.

"_It's a waste_," she hissed. Her furious eyes settled on him for a long moment before slowly making their way back to the bodies on the ground. There they lay, the team of promising young men were now reduced to lifeless husks. Her recruits. Her friends. The nausea hit again.

She turned away as her stomach violently convulsed. Her hands were braced on her knees as she leaned forward trying to miss her feet. She couldn't stop it, her stomach kept angrily heaving. There was nothing left to throw up, and finally sobs fell between the heaves – some from the physical pain, some from the heartache. Her nose ran, her eyes watered and every fibre in her body trembled. She was in danger of collapsing on the soiled stone, but still, she couldn't stop. _How did Duncan do this?_ _It was_ s_o wrong…_

A hand gently rested on her shoulder. The surprise stopped her traitorous body long enough to take a sharp breath of cool air. Not looking up, she gritted her teeth, "Leave me alone. Just go away." _Shame._ _No one can see me like this…_

"Well see now that's just not going to happen. We're in this together." He kept his hand on her shoulder, but did not try and pull her away. "Besides," he continued, "I owe you. As I recall, you were there for me when I lost Duncan. And that was back when you didn't even _like_ me."

Hunching over, Kila focussed on stilling herself. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to clean up what she could. Still bracing herself with her knees, she looked up at Alistair. Her mouth twitched as she struggled to force back the sobs. Finally, she took a deep, steadying breath and asked, "Who ever said I liked you _now_?"

For a moment, Alistair looked stunned before he suddenly broke into a hearty laugh. Finally, her twitching mouth turned into a weak grin as she straightened up and moved away from her mess.

"Well, fair enough," he smiled. "But why don't you start heading back to Lothering? I left my men there and Wynne is with them. You should go to her…"

"Wynne?" the faint, but sudden hopefulness in her voice was further proof of her deep need for comfort. No one could help her make sense of the world like Wynne could…

Alistair nodded, "Of course. We needed someone to prepare the mixture."

The thoughts of walking away from this mess seriously plagued her mind. But finally, she shook her head, "I can't," her voice was teeming with her sudden exhaustion.

"I can handle this. Go to her." he urged.

Kila shook her head and put her one clean hand on his arm. "I can't. Alistair, after everything I can't just leave them now. I owe them more than that." He clenched his jaw for a moment before finally nodded in acknowledgement. Quickly, they set to work dragging the bodies to a spot they could burn them.

It was impossible not to stare at the look of horror that was frozen on their faces…it reflected the horror in her own heart.

Suddenly, she was brought back to the present – back to the Alienage. Tolan roughly head butted her foot again letting out a pitiful whine. _How long had he been there?_ Blinking her memories away, she looked down at the mabari who barked excitedly.

She hopped down from her perch and turned to face him. She stood silently for a moment, taking in the cool air, letting the sounds of the Alienage fill her ears. No longer was she standing in the ruins…no, she was home now. Reaching up, she wiped away the wetness from her cheeks and offered him a smile. "I'm sorry Tolan. Sometimes I get lost…but I'm back now."

Finally, she scratched behind his ear and asked, "Did you have fun?" He hopped side to side and barked happily. "Oh good. And will I be hearing any complaints?" Kila tried to be stern. Tolan pawed at the ground and whined. She narrowed her eyes at him and he barked again, springing up.

"You better hope not." Finally she laughed and lovingly patted his head. "We best be getting back," she said at last as she made her way down the stairs.

Side by side the pair slowly set off back through the Alienage.


	12. The Fun

_**Author's Note:** This is a pretty lighthearted chapter between Zevran and Kila. But I'd say they deserve a bit of fun no?_

When she was still too long was when all the memories really caught up with her. That was part of why she had turned into such a workaholic – it was through having something to focus her attention on that she was able to ward off the memories. As good intentioned as the forced holiday was, it kept her too still and after a while, she couldn't stop getting lost in thought. Most of them were too horrific to willingly stay lost in for long. Knowing this, it's hardly surprising that she suddenly had to cut her time short at the Alienage.

The rest of the house had fallen asleep while she laid in the darkness, plagued with faces of the dead. Finally, she sat up and shook her head clear. She had to leave.

After writing out a quick letter of thanks and promises to send for her things, she made her way through the Alienage, heading home. She was completely unconcerned at the thought of being attacked. Between her blades and mabari, she was in no real danger, and toying with a common thug could be entertaining. It had been a long time since she had been able to use her weapons in anything other than practice, and nothing cleared her mind as well as battle. But that was not to be, not a soul disturbed her...

~~s~~

Zevran sighed softly as he stared out what stars he could see from his bed. A gentle breeze rolled through his window, playing with the light curtains. It was a relaxing moment, but Zevran was too restless to sleep. He had been tossing and turning until he finally gave up and quietly lay there. His full schedule on the training grounds always left him satisfied and tired at the end of the day. But finally, he had to admit tonight was different and with a frown, he finally kicked off his sheets and got out of bed.

After quickly dressing, he left his room. There was no thought given as to where he was actually headed, he just knew he couldn't lay there any more. Perhaps a stop at the kitchen was in order. Sleepless people often ended up there did they not? Soundlessly, he made his way down the hall, but froze when he heard a creak. It came from the stairway leading up from the first floor. The recruits did not often wander at night...

~~s~~

Kila quietly let herself in, locking the door again behind her. She gestured for Tolan to take his usual spot near the entrance and he happily flopped down. After shrugging off her overcoat, she made her way to the stairs.

Carefully, she climbed the stairs, making no noise…until she stepped on the last stair. In the silence, the normally soft creak was thunder to her ears and she winced in response. As she held her breath, she heard a faint rustling in the hall. Swiftly, she moved from the stairwell and hugged the shadow until she could slip into a nearby room. She bit her lip as Zevran moved past her hiding spot on his way to investigate the noise

~~s~~

It was not a crime for a recruit to wander around at night. The estate had become home to them as much as it had to Kila and himself. But it was just odd that he had not seen anyone emerge from the stairwell, nor heard any steps heading down. With a slight look of confusion, he confidently walked down the hall and peered down the stairwell. Even in the dim light, he could see there was no one on the stairs. With incredibly speed, he gracefully darted down the stairs and did not spot anyone in the connecting room either. Interesting. There was not enough time between the creak and his arrival for a recruit to have already ambled away from the area.

The hairs bristled on the back of his neck. That left only the possibility that someone was purposefully trying to remain concealed. With that quick revelation, every muscle in his body tingled and he was ready for action. Using great speed, he quickly flew back up the stairs, betting the intruder was making his way further into the estate rather than out. The hallway was perfectly still, and the moonlight shining in from the many windows showed nothing out of place.

He did not try to be stealthy – if the intruder were still nearby, he would have already been spotted. Likely, the intruder would be heading somewhere specific, and Zevran was more concerned with closing the gap rather than trying to hide. His mind ran through the reasons for an intruder…was there anything of value at the estate? Not particularly, just the armory. Was there anyone of note? He wasn't aware of anyone other than the Warden. His feet silently carried him as his mind mulled it over.

~~s~~

Kila smirked as she poked her head out from her hiding spot in time to see him turn into a side hall. For the first time in a long time, she felt _alive_. Unlike Zevran, she was concerned with being stealthy. As she crept down the hall, she took great care to tiptoe past the cascading moonlight. Even as the blood rushed in her ears from the pressing silence, she was able to hear the smallest of noises. She heard nothing coming from the hall Zevran turned down – he must be quite a distance from her now.

Keeping her breathing even, she tried to decide what to do…should she try to sneak up on him? Normally, it would not be a smart idea, but he _was_ unarmed. The idea of sneaking to their room was appealing too; surprise him when he finally gave up the chase and returned to bed. Of course, the challenge of anticipating where he would run off to next was an interesting thought. As she neared the fork in the hall, she knew she'd have to make her mind up quickly...

~~s~~

Zevran pressed himself against the wall and listened – not daring to look around the corner. He knew the intruder was behind him, making his way up the hall towards where Zevran waited. Just a few more steps…_wait…is that…?_

~~s~~

Kila finally came up to the side hall that Zevran disappeared in, but hesitated. She turned down the opposite hall, deciding to head to their room. Suddenly, she felt his arm around her neck, holding her tightly. His icy voice whispered in her ear, "What are you doing here?"

Without answering, she hastily threw her elbow back, catching him in his stomach and leaving him winded. She managed to race forward a few steps before he was back on her. This time he twisted her around a pushed her against the wall.

Face to face with his intruder, he seemed mildly surprised, "It _is_ you. My Ki, what are you doing here?" he repeated as he let her go.

Her mouth twisted into an impish grin. Catching him by surprise, she thrust herself forward and traded places as she shoved him against the wall. She laid her forearm across his chest, roughly holding him in place. "In the middle of the night you catch me breaking into your estate…and that's all you can say to me? Has the great Zevran Arainai grown soft?" she challenge in a hoarse whisper.

Smoothly, he broke her grasp spun her around. Pinning her wrists against the wall above her head, he offered a sinister smile. In response, she arched her back and ran her tongue over her lips. _Play time_.

He leaned forward and growled in her ear, "Is that not a fair question when I find you sneaking about in the middle of the night like a common thief? The inquiry stands but now the question is…how do I get you to talk?"

Pulling her wrists together, he pinned her with one hand, leaving his other free to roam. He did not rush and with slow, deliberate movements, he traced down her arm. She couldn't help but try to twist out of his grasp as his fingers brushed over the pit of her arm – a tender spot that was never exposed. A smirk greeted her reaction, but his gaze remained on his fingers as he visually appreciated each line of her body. Helplessly she watched as his hand move down over the curve of her chest as he purposefully avoided brushing against any sensitive areas. Her back arched again, trying to guide his hands…but he continued to tease.

Tracing a line down to her ribs, he moved over her abdomen, turning his fingers to the gentle curve in her side. Even in the dim moonlight, he could see the fine bumps rise from what skin was exposed as she shivered. Her chest began to heave as her breathing slowly became heavier. No longer able to see his hand, she looked up at him and softly bit her lip. Silently, her eyes begged him for more. He returned her look as his hand ran over the curve of her hip and came to rest in the nape of her knee.

With a tug, he moved her leg up, guiding it to wrap around him. He pressed himself against her, and her body fervently responded. Keeping her wrists pinned, he leaned forward and ran his tongue along her lips…which eagerly parted for him. Passionately, he closed his mouth over hers as she softly whimpered. Her lips hungrily met his, urging him further…needing more. It was a relief to feel him, and instinctively her leg pulled tighter as she pressed back against him.

Finally, using every last ounce of willpower, he straightened. Although her legs were still tangled around him, the frustration was clear on her face as he pulled away. His words were full of gravel as he tried to keep his composure. "Still nothing hmm? You are not going to talk I suppose? I may have to rethink my tactics…"

Before he could finish his sentence, Kila slipped her leg down to the back of his knee and pushed herself forward, sweeping his feet out from under him. It was a simple move, one that an expert such as Zevran would never fall victim to. However, in the spirit of things, he chose not to resist and fell to the ground.

Proudly, Kila straddled her prey, and held his wrists to the ground. "The only thing wrong with your tactics is that you stopped," she purred as she leaned forward, resting her torso on his. She could feel the heat from his body through her thin tunic as she pressed herself against him. His heart was racing as fast as hers. With less control than he showed, she started kissing his neck. Kisses turned to soft bites and flickering tongue as her hot breath blew over his skin. Finally, his chest rumbled as a groan escaped his lips. With a driving need, she made her way up to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe before speaking again. "Good luck with the interrogation," she whispered.

With that, she sprang up and dashed down the hall, leaving her victim sprawled on the ground.

In that moment, with her lighthearted mischievousness, Zevran saw a much younger Kila. It was quite like how he imagined she might have been before Duncan ever came into her life. Not a care in the world sat on her shoulders as she bound down the hall and Zevran was more than happy to be the instrument of her reprieve from life.

Those thoughts quickly left his mind as he scrambled off the floor to sprint after her. Catching up to her only a few feet from their room, he twisted her wrist behind her back, and held his arm across her collarbone. Nuzzling his smooth face into the nape of her neck, he couldn't help but kiss her soft flesh. Planting insistent kisses down her neck, he finally felt her shudder against him and let out a low moan. It was always her weak spot.

Softly he murmured in her ear, "It seems I cannot handle this on my own. Perhaps I need to get my partners…strawberry and syrup…"

"_Ha_" she laughed loudly as his ridiculous comment caught her off guard. With a proud smile, he easily pushed her into their room and closed the door behind them.

Down the hall, a door creaked open as a recruit finally poked his head out of the room. Not sure what he had just heard, he carefully looked up and down the hall, seeing nothing. Furrowing his eyebrows for a moment, he gave one more glance. Satisfied that there was no danger, he finally shrugged and went back in his room, quietly closing the door behind him


	13. The Crisis

Zevran had been almost hesitant when he brought up Leliana's offer to replace Kila on the training grounds. Indeed, Kila's initial reaction was sour – these were _her_ recruits, _her_ training grounds, and _her _archery classes. But these thoughts remained unspoken as she had also quickly recognized the need for a replacement, at least temporarily. So instead of the sneer that was brewing, out came a smile.

"That would be wonderful!" she exclaimed. If Zevran saw the flicker of conflict in her eye, he never commented. "The recruits would be so lucky to have her for a teacher," she continued, "I know what Leliana showed _me_ kept me alive on more than one occasion."

It was the very next day that Leliana joined her on the training grounds and only a couple weeks later that she was running the classes. With each passing day, Kila found herself more grateful for Leliana's presence. Not only was it a relief to have someone she trusted to teach her recruits, but it was just nice to have her around. The time they spent together leading up to the Blight was not long ago, but she had already forgotten how easy Leliana was to talk to. It was sad to realize that in blocking the bad memories, she also blocked the good…

"So archery is an effective way to fight over a distance correct?" Leliana questioned the recruits standing before her. With slightly confused looks, each person nodded…wondering what the catch was. These recruits had been training at the estate for several months, but each was new to archery.

Leliana's eyes glinted in amusement, "Yes. But what about in close combat?" The group fell silent.

Finally, one student spoke up, "Well…you'd get crushed. A bow and arrow is no match for a sword."

"Quite right," she agreed. "So attack me," she ordered the student. He stood unmoving, giving Leliana a bewildered expression. She laughed, "What's the problem? You've been trained in melee haven't you?" He nodded. "Well? Attack me," she repeated.

Finally, the recruit picked up a waster from the rack on the side and turned back to Leliana. The quiver was secured to her back, and she held the bow casually at her side. The student waited for her to strike a defensive pose, but instead, she just nodded for him to proceed. Finally, he shrugged and attacked.

With one arm held up, as if holding an invisible shield, he swung the sword with his back arm. All she did was turn to the side and frown. "No…really attack me," a hint of exasperation crept into her voice, "You wouldn't do that if a darkspawn was approaching you like this! Grab a shield if it helps."

He frowned for a moment before he ran towards her again, swinging the waster with both hands. She took a leap backwards and before anyone could track her hands, she fired an arrow as she landed. The arrow had a flattened head, and bounced harmlessly off the recruit's chest.

Without hesitating, he closed the gap and reversed the swing. Using incredible speed, Leliana dropped into a roll, ducking under the blade entirely. As she stood, she smoothly fired another arrow at the recruit which bounced off his leg. She kept a low, defensive stance, waiting to see what he would do next.

Finally, a cry of effort and frustration escaped his lips as he brought the sword straight down in an incredibly powerful swing. After side stepping the strike, Leliana grabbed the man's arms and used them to propel herself around her target. Landing lightly behind him, she delivered a swift kick to the back of his leg, forcing it to buckle.

As he landed on his knees, he felt the pressure from the flattened arrow as she pressed it against the back of his head. "I think we can stop now, thank you," she said quietly. Obediently, the recruit stood and rejoined the other students.

"As you can see," she addressed the whole group, "with speed and agility, you can hold your ground with almost anything. But you will find most archers will abandon their bows in favour a sword for close combat. If any of you are interested in what you saw, I can work with you more…but for now, let's just focus on the basics."

Even though Kila stood a distance off to the side, she could see Leliana's warm smile - she was definitely in her element. After pulling herself up from the bench she was on, Kila took a moment to survey the whole grounds. Just beyond Leliana's area was a group of sparring students, lead by Dilwyn's husband Gethon. Off to the side sat Zevran's group as he taught them how to construct a particularly effective shrapnel trap. Although the training area wasn't overly expansive, each group had enough room to go about their business. As the sun cheerily shone down on the grounds, there was a sense of serenity among the bustle of the students.

It was staring at this perfect scene that brought to Kila's mind a conversation she once had with Wynne. Through her experiences, Wynne had eventually come to the conclusion that most misery comes from trying to go against the flow and direction of one's life. She hadn't gone so far as to say the Maker had a plan for each person, but that happiness comes from accepting one's life for what it was. In his own way, Sten followed that same philosophy, if only from a more rigid stand point – each person had a role and happiness was found in that duty. At the time, she wasn't sure she agreed with either of them…however standing there gazing over the estate, their words made sense. She may not have had a choice in becoming a Warden, but it was only after she accepted her path that everything came together. Standing in this moment and seeing it all there – the love of her life, the progressing recruits, the smoothly running estate, the amazing people that came into her life, all the hard work starting to pay off – it all just seemed too perfect to be completely random. She was meant to be there, she was meant to see this all, and she was meant to have been the seed for it…she felt at peace in a way she never felt before.

Smiling to herself, she finally turned and started back towards the building. As she approached, her reflection against one of the darkened windows caught her eye. She turned to the side to regard her profile, and flattened her tunic against her so she could see the outline of her stomach. There still was not much to show, so she leaned back slightly. With a bit of imagination, she saw a perfectly happy woman with child staring back at her. Rubbing her hand over her stomach, she took a moment to absorb the sight. _Maybe everything will be just fine_. Still smiling to herself, she slipped inside.

Zevran just happened to look over in time to see Kila admiring herself in the window. It was a warming thought that she may actually be excited at the idea of their son…

It was much cooler inside, but Kila welcomed it – somehow it was easier to concentrate when it was cooler, and she had a full afternoon of sorting through files. Casually strolling up the hall, she suddenly felt a twinge in her stomach. She broke her stride, but it was over quickly so she carried on without giving it a second thought.

The pang came again, much more insistent this time. "Ohh," she gasped as she stopped and rested her hand over her stomach. As before, it was over quickly, but Kila hesitated. Something didn't seem right...

Cautiously, she waited for several moments but nothing happened. Finally, she realized she was completely tense, so she slowly let out her breath of air and forced her muscles to relax. She just needed to sit down. Before she even took a step, the twinge came back, quickly turning painful. Instinctively, she hunched over protectively, and leaned against the wall for support. The pain didn't recede. It got worse. Her breaths came in short pants as she doubled over from the pain. Faintly, she had a conscious thought…_something is wrong_…but no one was around to hear her cry out…

Like any other day, there was a lot of noise on the training grounds. Zevran had brought his class outside to enjoy the incredible weather, but had to try and speak over the noise of smacking wasters and twanging bows. He wondered if it was a bad idea, but as he spent time hovering over the shoulders of his students, he saw that they seemed to pick up on everything with little difficulty. Almost. He frowned at one student, and stooped to fix a minor error.

As he knelt beside the recruit, something seemed to tug at him. _Look_. He reached over to the half made trap in the student's hand, not giving in to irrational thoughts. _Look…_something urged him to turn around, to look back to the estate. Without realizing it, he finally glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Kila leaning heavily on the window pane and clumsily waving her free arm. He could see her mouth his name, but she was too far away to hear. Suddenly, she drooped and slid out of sight.

He dropped the trap from his hands and frantically sprinted past his students. Alarmed, most of them jumped to their feet, which drew Leliana's attention. She looked from the recruits to a panicked looking Zevran who quickly flew past her without giving her a second glance. Instantly, she dropped her bow and chased after him, leaving her recruits frozen in confusion. She did not know what was happening, but the look on his face said enough – she had never known him to panic.

Leliana was only a few strides behind him, but by the time she arrived in the hall, he was already on his knees, cradling Kila who was sprawled on the floor and mindlessly moaning in pain. She moved to help but stopped short when she realized there was blood pooling out from under Kila. Zevran propped her so she was resting on his leg and held her hand as he cooed to her. Her face was pale, and tears escaped her tightly squeezed eyes.

Snapping his head up, he looked straight at Leliana, "Get help."

It was enough to break her trance, and Leliana ran over to the window. All the recruits in the training grounds were confused and aimless, unsure what they should be doing. She called out the window at the two fastest recruits, "Lawton, go get the midwife! Marlina…" she looked back at Kila briefly before finishing her sentence, "Go get Wynne!" Not questioning her, both students started heading to the weapon rack to put their wasters away. "_Now!_" she screamed, "_go now_!"

They both dropped their wasters in the grass and bolted towards the main gate.

"_No no no_, My Ki, you have to stay with me," Zevran's voice took on a sudden urgency. Leliana turned back to see Kila had loosened her grip on Zevran's hand and her head lolled. Her eyes rolled back. He dropped her hand and roughly patted her cheeks. "You have to stay with me," he repeated.

With her head turned to the side, her eyes slowly opened, "So…much blood…" she murmured. Zevran guided her face back to him, and with great effort she tried to focus. For a brief moment, he could see a spark of awareness. "Zev…I'm scared" she whispered before she closed her eyes as if it took too much effort to keep them open. Again, her head lolled as she went limp and her hand slipped from her chest, landing with a slap on the wet floorboards.

Zevran's blood ran cold. In all the time he knew her, he had never heard her utter those words. Helplessly he looked up at Leliana who stood unmoving, with her hand over her mouth.

He looked back down at Kila, and tried to get her to open her eyes again; he had to keep her awake until Wynne arrived. But her eyes wouldn't open.

_I'm scared…_


	14. The Rumour Mill

_**Author's Note**: Thank you everyone so much for your comments, they really mean a lot to me. And thank you for sticking with me on my first longer writing venture :)_

* * *

As evening fell, the Gnawed Noble Tavern was as busy as always. Despite its somewhat dingy appearance and the less-than-reputable characters that hang about, it's always been a favourite haunt for most of Denerim's upper crust and influential people. Rutger was one such person who frequented the tavern – he might not have been considered upper crust, but he was a business owner and belonged in that group all the same. Being the local butcher, he also made many unlikely connections, making him surprisingly influential as well.

After grabbing his full mug of ale, he turned from the bar and made his way over to his usual table, where his good friend, Aldrich, sat. Normally Rutger was a very boisterous man, but that day he seemed rather sullen as he nodded to Aldrich in acknowledgement. His usually ruddy cheeks were pale.

"What's with you?" Aldrich asked.

Rutger hesitated and looked down at his friend, "You mean you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"The Warden's dead," Rutger stated flatly.

"What, the King?" Aldrich asked, his tone rife with confusion.

"No you idiot, the Hero of Ferelden," Rutger clarified in a gruff voice. He was still standing over his table, almost like he was making an announcement to the tavern. Indeed, the tavern had grown noticeably quieter.

Aldrich blinked for a moment at his chubby friend before finally shaking his head, "Nope. I call rubbish." It was well known that Rutger enjoyed the art of exaggeration. But, due to his many connections through customers, friends, and family, most of his stories had a kernel of truth and the challenge was to weed through the flair to get to it.

Somberly, Rutger looked into Aldrich's eyes and slowly sat down in his chair. "Well," he said loudly, "If she ain't already dead, she will be soon." Aldrich blanched slightly…there wasn't much flair to sort through this time, Rutger's tone made that clear.

A passing barmaid stopped in her tracks beside the table. Making no effort to hide her eavesdropping she questioned, "What's that you say? What happened?"

Possibly for dramatic effect, Rutger took a moment to take a deep drink from his mug and after wiping the foam from his mustache, he began, "Millie, my mate's nephew's wife is a midwife right? _Her_ midwife…" Those in the surrounding tables hung on his words as he continued, "Well yesterday morning, one of them Warden Ally kids comes running to their house all panic like, yelling for her to come to the estate."

Despite Kila's best efforts, the news of her pregnancy had become common knowledge in Denerim weeks ago. Already having an idea where the story was headed, several patrons shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Rutger went on, "She's gone all day, and finally last night comes home, and she's just beside herself. I mean, _beside _herself with what she seen, and it ain't like she's never lost patients before. The baby's gone, and the Warden's lost so much blood that she shouldn't even be alive. But that crazy old mage lady was there and Millie figures that's what kept the Warden from dying right on the spot. Millie got whisked away shortly after she decided the babe was gone, and everyone from the Estate's been mum since."

"That's _awful_!" the barmaid exclaimed in her shrill voice as she lowered herself into the chair across from Rutger. A whistle blew from Aldrich's lips as he let out the air he had been holding.

Rutger looked down at the foam sitting on the top of his mug, and most of the others also turned their gaze down at their drinks. An impromptu moment of silence was held for the Warden as everyone digested the news. She was their hero, the ultimate symbol of strength and protection…and this was an injustice if ever there was one.

Abruptly, Aldrich broke the silence as he pushed his chair away from the table with a loud scrape. "I got to go home and see my wife," he said simply as he threw down his coin and strode out of the tavern.

~~s~~

So many recruits were standing in the narrow hallway that they were almost wedged shoulder-to-shoulder outside the bedroom door. Knowing little more than what the few had seen in the training grounds the day Kila fell, they were curious and worried. No classes were officially cancelled, but Zevran and Leliana's absence on the grounds left many classes unsupervised. Most would carry on with their drills, trying to maintain some semblance of discipline, but even so it was awkward. Kila was their leader and being left in the dark was upsetting.

Finally the door opened and a new hush fell over the already quiet group as Leliana stepped out. The ones closest to the door tried to peer in as she closed it, but it was too dark to make out anything. Her voice rang out gently in the small space, "I need you all to leave."

The recruits hesitated, not sure if they heard her correctly. She wearily added, "This hallway must be cleared for those running between here and the kitchen. We appreciate your concern, and we will make an announcement to you all when there is something to report." By the expression on their faces, it was clear they were disappointed with her vagueness, but nonetheless, the hall slowly emptied. Leliana was silently grateful no one questioned her.

The door opened again and an exhausted looking Wynne shuffled out. Without looking at Leliana, she rested her back against the wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor with her feet out before her. She looked like a pale rag doll as she blankly stared at the wall across from her. Leliana looked down at Wynne, surprised at her lack of ceremony. She had seen her suffer through exhaustion after a battle when the adrenaline wore off, but it was nothing like this.

Almost in response to Leliana's thoughts, Wynne murmured, "I couldn't bring her back."

Leliana knelt beside her and took one of her hands between hers. "But Kila is alive," she reminded her.

It was curious, but Wynne did not acknowledge Leliana. She continued to blankly stare at nothing as she drew long, laborious breaths. Now that Leliana was finally able to regard her friend where there was more light, she could see the deep red rims around her eyes that were now welling with tears. Wynne just suddenly seemed so old and it pulled at Leliana's heart as much as everything else. In a voice barely above a whisper, Wynne croaked, "Still alive. But I couldn't bring her back." Apparently she had heard.

A questioning expression fell over Leliana's face, but before she could speak, Wynne added, "_We_ could not bring _her_ back. "

"By we, you mean you and your spirit, don't you?" Leliana pressed. In response, Wynne nodded. "But doesn't that drain you both?" Leliana did not wait for a reply before adding, "You have to be careful Wynne. Not only would Kila never forgive you if you hurt yourself trying to save her, but I don't think she's going to be your only patient…"

Leliana had let her words trail off and did not expect an answer so she was surprised when Wynne softly snorted. "Perhaps. But I have yet to discover a spell that can mend a broken heart…"

Wynne's voice was stronger, but she was still staring distantly. Finally, Leliana felt the despair rise. It was all around her, utter despair emanating from the bed chamber, from the hall, from the students, from her loved ones. It rose in her chest, and she could feel the tears form in her eyes. She had spent so much time dismissing the pain and focusing on the tasks at hand but now with her faltering companion, it was almost too much. She tightly clenched her jaw, trying to fight the coming emotion – this was not the time…

From beside the door, Tolan let out a pitiful whimper, reminding the women that he had not left his guard. Coming further out of her stupor, Wynne patted the ground next to her, calling Tolan over who obediently sat beside her.

Finally, Wynne looked over as she squeezed Leliana's hand. "Don't worry about me child, I'll be alright. You're not on your own just yet," she lovingly smiled as she spoke. Leliana nodded, and with Wynne's strength coming to the surface once again, it was easier to push the despair away.

~~s~~

Death happens. It was a statement that Zevran silently kept repeating to himself. The room was darkened with the curtains drawn and few candles lit, yet with Zevran's keen eyes, he had little difficulty seeing. As he silently stared at his love who lay unmoving on the bed, he repeated his mantra – death happens. She was unnaturally pale and still; just the slight rise and fall of her chest signalled that she yet lived.

It was a simple fact, death does happens, it could not be disputed. And yet, somehow it felt wrong. They were the only two words he could cling to, but even so, they felt hollow and provided no comfort. Were they ever meant to? His mind had raced from the second he saw Kila calling for him from the window, but eventually his thoughts had started to muddy together. One thought was no longer separate from another, and they all lost meaning. Everything around him, his thoughts, his feelings, the room, himself…it all blended together in an tiring fog. It was a blur. _Death happens_ were the only two words his conscious mind could decipher, and yet they let him down…they offered him nothing.

With heavy limbs, he pulled himself from his chair and stood over the bed. Tracing his fingers carefully down the side of her face, he couldn't tear his eyes away. Was it in his mind, or was her face empty? Any victim he had seen fallen carried some sort of expression – a look of terror or a final moment of serenity perhaps. There was no peace in her features, but neither were they twisted in horror…they were blank. Her face was blank and empty. Unable to make sense of it all, he finally leaned forward and lovingly kissed her forehead.

As he sat back down, he reached out to clutch one of her limp hands in his. Silently, he leaned back in his chair, still holding her hand, and tried to relax his body. His head slowly fell forward with his chin tucked to his chest. As usual, his golden hair was pinned back, but many wild wisps had escaped and cascaded down over his face. Sleep did not find him, but his body rested.


	15. The Meeting

The beautifully decorated coach rattled as it moved along the Denerim streets. Queen Anora always found it ironic that the beauty of the coach was meant to inspire as royalty rode past and yet that style of travel constantly jostled them in a completely unseemly manner. With the common people never realizing this, the sight would continue to inspire, but she never much cared for being bounced around in the coach.

The small curtains over the windows were pulled open just enough for her to see outside. Black banners were hung from every window and some stretched across buildings. The entire city was in mourning for someone who hadn't even died yet. It reminded her of when the news of King Cailan made it to the city; the banners hung for days upon days. Of course it was expected when royalty died, and when she died, the banners would hang as well. But she couldn't help but wonder, would people _want_ to hang banners when she died?

Kila was not royalty, therefore there was nothing requiring the people to visibly mourn – especially considering she was still alive. And yet the banners flew. The banners of mourning were hung out of a genuine love for their beloved hero. Anora knew she was liked well enough among the people, but would the city show such deep and true emotion for her like they had for the Warden?

Pulling herself from her morbid thoughts, she turned to the others in the coach. Beside her sat her most favoured attendant, and across from her sat Alistair. Her attendant offered her a warm smile while Alistair continued to stare off into the distance, not acknowledging her at all.

Clearing her throat, she broke the thick silence, "Now Alistair, I realize we will be meeting with your friends but we truly must conduct ourselves in a dignified manner."

Alistair blinked in surprise as he turned to her, "Excuse me?" She held his stare, not looking away. Quickly he added, "Yes, these _are_ my friends, and to offer them any less than my whole self would not be fair right now."

"You and I are both here representing the throne," she reminded him.

Kila had asked Alistair as of late to give Anora a chance. He understood that as Kila grew, she made effort to see the good in people. It was admirable on her part, but how she saw good in this woman, he would never know. Taking on an authoritative tone, Alistair declared, "I _am _the throne. And I will conduct myself in any way I see fit."

He left little room for argument. With a sigh, Anora turned her gaze back out the window, watching the black banners ripple gently in the breeze.

~~s~~

"Creda is simply terrible at combat, this I do not deny. However, her skills at trap and poison making are astounding. I am confident she can lead those classes, rather aptly, for the time being." Zevran's voice was quiet and melancholy, but did not falter.

"I believe so too," Leliana smoothly added. "So, we are all in agreement then that Gethon will continue with the melee classes as usual, I will continue with the archery classes as well as the stealth combat, and the senior recruit Creda will lead the trap and poison classes. We will review this all when the field wound treatment classes are set to begin again." They had already been meeting for a couple of hours, and with stamina waning, no one challenged this. Anora's attendant was busy scribing the decision.

Zevran, Leliana, Wynne, Dilwyn, Gethon, Alistair, Anora, and Anora's attendant all sat around the large table working together to try to decide how to keep the estate functioning. While Kila was unconscious no one could expect Zevran to remain active, so in a sense, the Warden Estate was losing its two leaders in one tragedy. The others had to pull together during this difficult period.

"I am not sure if this is the time, but I do feel we need to discuss the keeping of the records," Anora spoke up gently. Respectfully, everyone turned to her. "I had worked with Kila to set up a system whereby she could track the progress of each recruit. I, of course, offer my time to teach whomever you would have stand-in with this task."

"Oh yes, because _that's_ extremely important," Alistair muttered under his breath.

Anora paused for a moment as a brief flash of anger receded from her face. In a calm voice, Anora turned to Alistair and countered, "Yes, it _is _extremely important. If the…absence…of Kila has shown us anything, it's that we need a way to track everything so if need be, someone else can step in and keep everything running smoothly."

The hairs on the back of Alistair's neck bristled at Anora's tone – she spoke as if to a child. He knew he should keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't help himself, "Absence? If need be? No, go on, say what you mean. If Kila _dies._" She gasped at him but he pushed on, "Well, that's what you mean isn't it?"

"What do you want from me?" Anora spat at him, her cool façade finally splitting, "You think this is easy? She was my friend too!" Alistair rolled his eyes, infuriating Anora further, "It's _true._ We became close in this last year - we spent a lot of time together working on this, while you were away on all your tours."

Her words were sharp, but in that moment, all she wanted was for someone to understand. They all looked at her as if she were some intrusive outsider, there for the facts and nothing more. She had sincerely come to regard Kila as a friend over this time and despite the fact that she kept a calm demeanor, she was hurting too. Part of her just wanted someone to know that…wanted _him _to know that.

Instead, Alistair pounded a fist on the table to accent his words, "And _there_ it is! Now you're saying I'm not a good friend is that it? That I abandoned her?"

Anora's shoulders dropped as the glimmer of hope for a speck of understanding faded out of existence. Her expression hardened again as she turned away from him, facing the table. She didn't bother to reply.

"_Enough._" Wynne demanded wearily, "This is getting us nowhere." She leveled her gaze at Alistair who sheepishly folded his arms across his chest with no further comments.

Turning to Anora, Dilwyn tried to steer the conversation back towards the air of diplomacy from earlier, "We agree that this is an important system for the estate and we sincerely appreciate your offer to help us maintain it. At present, we have not decided on who will continue with it, but once we have, we will send that person to you if that is agreeable."

Anora nodded in acknowledgement. Dilwyn hesitated for a moment before adding, "Kila spoke very fondly of you, your Highness." Again, Anora nodded, not trusting herself to speak although unfortunately, she just came across as cold.

"One more topic of unpleasantness that we must sort out is what to tell the recruits, and who will speak to them," Leliana pushed the meeting forward. Everyone momentarily paused.

Finally Gethon spoke up, "Well, seeing as how he is the other Grey Warden in Ferelden, I think it would be fitting for King Alistair to speak."

Without looking up, Alistair replied in a dull tone, "We need to keep royal command separate from the Warden order to avoid the appearance of one influencing the other. Besides, as the other founding leader of this estate, I think Zevran should speak."

"Oh that's fair. Yes, let's make the bereaving husband talk to scores of people about what he's going through," Anora softly replied, her words dripping with sarcasm.

"Well _you're_ the one always insisting on keeping the two separate," Alistair retorted.

"Talking to a group of recruits is hardly a conspiracy of the Wardens influencing the throne" Anora's frustration could not be hidden by her distant demeanor.

Finally, Zevran stood up from his chair and everyone froze. He suddenly looked aged and worn out as he passed his gaze over those surrounding the table. Instant silence fell over the room as they waited to hear what he had to say. He wanted to blast the pair for being so petty. He wanted to point out how much time was being wasted. He wanted to state how should just be at Kila's side. He wanted to scream.

After standing with his mouth opened to speak, he finally clamped his jaw shut. What was the use? Without speaking a word, or looking back, Zevran turned and strode from the room. As the door closed with a dull thud behind him, the egos in the room deflated as the silence continued to close in on those around the table.

Eventually, Alistair cleared his throat. Although he spoke quietly, it sounded like booming thunder, "I will talk to the recruits. As King, making speeches is one of my duties so…between that and being the other Grey Warden, it _does_ make sense."

Alistair looked around the table for support, and saw many nodding heads…except Anora who continued to stare straight forward. If he hadn't looked closely, he would have missed it…but there were tears welling in her eyes. It had been a long day, and he couldn't deny that he had unfairly pushed her too far.

Not sure what to do to fix his mistake, Alistair reached over and closed his hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Much to his surprise, she squeezed back.

~~s~~

Shianni wasn't keen on leaving Kila's side, but she was respected Zevran too much to protest. As he closed the door behind her, Zevran heard a piteous whimper and hesitated. A distraught Tolan stared up at him from the hall with heartbroken eyes.

Zevran frowned and shook his head, "Wynne would have my head, I am afraid." Tolan sighed forcefully as he laid he head back on his front paws, still staring up at Zevran. Looking at the mabari, Zevran wasn't sure if he was losing his grip on reality, but he could see the hurt behind that stare. The large brown eyes were a window into the pain that tore the poor beast apart. It was awful enough to be separated from his master, but even worse knowing she was not well. And Zevran did not doubt that the mabari knew. With a sigh, Zevran finally waved Tolan into the room – he couldn't take the despairing look. Tolan instantly skittered forward, but as he approached the doorway, he hunched and tucked his tail between his legs.

"There, there my friend," he spoke soothingly as he closed the door. Reaching down, he patted the mabari to assure him. "I understand. She is the most important thing in the world to you, yes? You have as much right as I to be by her side, I should think." Tolan remained quiet, but relaxed his posture slightly. The pair made their way to Kila's bedside.

Tolan was tall enough to see over the edge of the bed with no trouble. For several long moments, he stared at his fallen master, softly whining as his features were twisted with a look of concern. Zevran stood beside him and rested his hand on the top of his head, trying to offer some comfort. Tolan loudly whined at his touch. "I know my friend," Zevran murmured.

Finally, Tolan nervously placed a large paw on the side of Kila's bed, and gave a quizzical glance to the golden haired elf standing beside him. Zevran frowned at the thought – if Wynne would be upset at the mabari being in the room, he could just imagine her reaction of him on the bed. He reached down and ran his fingers across Kila's forehead, confirming what he already guessed…her skin was still ice.

Wearily he sighed and looked at the great hound. With a shrug he conceded, "Perhaps your body heat will serve her well. But you must be careful." That was all the encouragement needed, and Zevran watched in amazement as Tolan's muscles strained while he pulled himself on the bed in slow, controlled movements. With surprising smoothness for a dog, Tolan curled around his master, hardly disturbing her at all. Even curled at her feet, Tolan was so long that he was easily able to nose his way under her limp arm until it was gently draped over him. With a satisfied sigh, he slowly closed his eyes.

Tolan exuded relief at finally being next to his master, but Zevran couldn't help but wonder if he knew what was going on. Did he realize this may be her deathbed? Should he try to explain it to him? Or perhaps it was Tolan who knew something he didn't, Zevran decided not to comment, leaving the animal to the peace he had been denied until now.

Somehow, having Tolan in the room helped steady Zevran in the fog that had become his life. It was as if somehow this sorrowful mabari was able to help him share the burden of his grief. It might not be a long lived relief, but Zevran somberly welcomed it.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Zevran rested his hand over hers and let his eyes trace over each detail of her expressionless face. Eventually, he sighed and gripped her hand tighter "Oh my Ki," he whispered. "We…we really need you…and…"

A knot caught in his throat and cut off any more words that would have followed.


	16. The Turning

_**Author's Note**: I was out of town until yesterday, so this chapter was written/edited today which means I have missed a lot of mistakes undoubtedly. Hopefully it doesn't take away from the read too much, but I really wanted to get it out! I know it gets confusing towards the end, but have faith in me :)_

Silently, Wynne stood outside the chamber door that was opened a slight crack. Her eyes were closed and she made subtle gestures with her hands while she mouthed words no one could hear. As Leliana came around the corner, spotting this unusual scene, she halted in her tracks. Although Wynne did not turn to greet Leliana, it was clear she was aware of her as she finished what she was doing and quietly closed the door again.

The quizzical expression on Leliana's face was gone quickly as she realized what she had happened upon. Wynne was casting. And since she was hiding it, she wasn't casting on Kila. "You were casting on him, weren't you?" she asked.

"I don't know what else to do," Wynne admitted.

Leliana nodded and reached over to take one of Wynne's hands. "Well I am glad that you are. I bring him food, but he says it just turns to sand in his mouth."

Deeply, Wynne sighed and repeated, "I just don't know what else to do…"

Those words hung heavily in the air. Everyone at the estate secretly placed all their trust in Wynne to see them through this time. Not many were familiar with the abilities of mages, but the people who were not afraid of them often expected more than what was reasonable. Only Leliana had an understanding of Wynne's limitations and they kept it that way. If anyone else on the grounds heard Wynne admitting she was at a loss, hope would be destroyed.

"What we need to do is get some rest," Leliana decided confidently. "In order for us to be strong for everyone else, we must get some rest ourselves."

Wynne turned to Leliana and smiled softly, "My, my…when did you get to be so wise?" Leliana returned the smile and laughed lightly as she led the tired mage away from the chamber.

~~s~~

Although Tolan slept soundly near the door, he would break into a whine every now and again. Bad dreams perhaps. Zevran did not notice the sporadic noises anymore; Tolan's presence had faded into the blurred background as had everything else.

Stiffly, Zevran sat forward in his chair as he stretched his arms above his head. He must have dozed off because he suddenly felt some energy in his weary body. Finishing his stretch with a sigh, he slumped in his chair and put his hand back over Kila's. It was still cold.

With the new wave of energy, the fog in his mind briefly lifted and he was able to think. It was not a good thing. Staring at his lover's lifeless face, he felt the pangs in his heart anew. At least in the fog, everything was relatively numb.

It was not the first time he had seen death…not even the first time he had seen the death of someone he dearly cares about. But it was the first time it stabbed at him deeply while it was happening.

With Taliesin it was easy to put his emotions aside and do what had to be done. Taliesin had tracked Zevran down to either kill him or help him return to the Crows; either of which being a threat since he would rather die than lose his new life. No matter how dear the friend, once he becomes an enemy, it is easy to ignore any reservations.

There was only one death that haunted him to this day, however at the time he felt nothing. As he watched the life blood spill from Rinna's throat while she soundlessly continued to profess her love for him, he had no sympathy. He spat on her. All his confusing feelings for her had turned to venom in that moment and he was easily able to watch her die. It was not until after he discovered she had not betrayed him or the Crows that the pain started. The shadows of shame from that moment followed him still, but during the death itself he was untroubled in doing what had to be done.

Was he still able to do such a thing…do what had to be done? Instinctively, he knew that Kila could not survive in this state much longer. They were able to use a cloth to drip water on her lips but without food, her body would start deteriorating.

In the years after he met Kila, she had guided him through the process of opening his heart. She had convinced him it was better to live with love rather than devoid of emotion. His life had indeed been filled with joy from loving her and making a difference in the world at the estate. But now…now he had to wonder if it was better to be detached from others after all. In his old life, he didn't experience pain like this. There was nothing to continually rip his heart to shreds _like this_. He had since grown so soft that he wasn't sure he would be able to do what needed to be done when the time came; he wasn't sure he'd be able to do anything more than watch his diminishing hope grow fainter and fainter until it painfully went out on its own. This began to disgust him.

He finally realized that Tolan was butting his head against his hand that was hanging from the side of the chair. Tolan whimpered loudly, like he was able to read the elf's mind. Zevran's eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he jerked his hand away from the mabari and silently crossed his arms over his chest.

Kila's hand lay uncovered on the bed.

~~s~~

Slowly, she became aware. She was standing in complete darkness…was she standing? While her eyes tried desperately to focus on something, her arms instinctively rose ahead of her, trying to feel for a wall. It was so dark…was she in a cave?

Distantly she heard a voice and cocked her head trying to listen. Finally, she could faintly make it out, "Pretty lady?"

It seemed familiar somehow. Hesitantly, she finally called out, "Hello?"

The voice sounded closer this time, "Pretty lady!"

Something nagged at the back of her mind. It must be a friend…right? Blindly, she started stumbling towards the voice, stretching her fingers before her. "Hello?" She called again.

"She is Ruck's friend," the voice declared, but sounded further away. Ruck? Finally, she could hear shuffling which was growing distant.

She felt the panic rising in her chest. That voice was all she had in the darkness and now even it was abandoning her. "_Stay! Please don't go_!" she cried out to the blackness. This time there was no reply. Refusing to give up on her only glimmer of hope, she started running towards the voice….

Suddenly, her shoulder was bumped violently from behind, forcing her to whirl around in order not to fall. As she turned, she came face to face with a large crowd of people who were impatiently shoving past her. She was dazed and disoriented, but no one cared as they continued to shove. To avoid getting trampled, she started moving with the crowd, and tried to make her way to the side. It was hard to keep her balance, and no one seemed interested in being civil.

Someone firmly grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side. "Careful there," a voice warned as she was plucked from the crowd. Instinctively she jerked her arm away as she stumbled from being pulled off balance. "Whoa, easy," the voice came again as steadying hands grabbed her.

Taking a second to compose herself, she finally gained control. The crowd was still rushing past, but she was now off the path and so they were harmlessly moving behind her. Looking around, she slowly became aware of her surroundings. It was sunny. There were tall wooden buildings and many merchant stalls beyond the crowd. The streets were dusty and brimming with people. Denerim? Was this near the market?

The voice coughed next to her, reminding her that someone was there. Spinning around, she felt the panic rise in her chest again – how could she have forgotten that quickly?

"It's alright," the voice assured her. It belonged to a man. Before her stood a tall man with broad shoulders, feathered brown hair, a chiseled jaw, and a caring smile. Again, something nagged at her, like a distant memory that wasn't quite at the surface – a name on the tip of her tongue. Even though she was no longer in the dark, it felt like she was looking at the world through a foggy film…nothing was clear.

"Lady Kila…" he said softly, almost more to himself than to her. Who?

Bewildered, she looked around and tried to think clearly. Who was this? Where was she? Much to her frustration, these simple answers never came.

"It's alright," he said again patiently, "Don't try to force it, sometimes it takes a while. Take all the time you need."


	17. The Effort

_**Author's Note: **Ever since I read the comment expressing interest in the Anora/Alistair story, I had this scene pop in my head. (So thanks for the idea of expanding a bit on these two!) It's not directly related to the story, and I maybe should have posted it separately as its own stand-alone but I thought it wouldn't hurt to squeeze it in between chapters. I will do a proper update early next week as usual though. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Anora sat at the table, looking over the papers for the last time. She thought everything was ready to show Kila's administrative stand-ins but she wanted to be sure. Most anything could become extremely confusing with a bumbling teacher. A knock at the door broke her concentration. "Enter," she called.

The door opened just wide enough for Alistair to poke his head into the room, "Can I come in?"

Rather than comment on how she already told him to enter, she simply nodded but kept her focus on the record examples in front of her.

Alistair promptly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Nervously running his hand through his hair and trying to act casual he asked, "How are…things?"

Finally she looked at him and narrowed her eyes. _Things_? It seemed more than a little suspicious that he would seek her out – something he never did – to ask about _things_. Somewhere between curious and annoyed, she kept her expression neutral as she replied, "Fine."

Looking at the papers she had splayed on the table, he realized that she was preparing to show someone the record system for the Warden estate. "Oh! Have they decided who will keep the records then?"

Absently, she nodded as she looked down at the paper in her hand, "Yes. I will be showing it to Soris and Shianni. They are both busy rebuilding the Alienage and meeting with advisors, but they think between them, they will be able to keep up with the paperwork. Being that they are both literate and seem to be quite sharp, I think it will work."

By this time, Alistair was standing beside the table and had started to fiddle with the quill that stood up from the ink vial. "Well good," he said as the quill clinked against the glass vial, drawing Anora's attention. She frowned at his hand, and when he noticed her expression, he quickly stopped touching the quill and pressed his hands at his sides.

"Is there something I can do for you?" She asked in a flat tone.

Alistair took a deep breath and started, "I just…" His hesitation turned to a full pause as he glanced at Anora. Behind her back, he called her the Ice Queen and the cold stare she was leveling at him reaffirmed that nick name in his mind. Although she spoke only words of due respect, her icy eyes made it clear how she felt. Alistair almost balked, but instead loudly exhaled.

"It's just that Kila so desperately wanted me to give you a chance – to get to know you. She really felt…" He paused again, not sure how to finish that sentence. Deciding not to, he continued, "And now with her…all…you know… I just wanted to…" Again, he was lost for words. Anora's hard expression remained unchanged. Abruptly, he gave up and shrugged. "But, nevermind. I can see this was a mistake." He turned towards the door to leave.

Quickly, Anora spoke up, "Alistair, wait." He stopped walking, but kept his back to her. It was uncomfortable.

"I don't see how it could work if you're just going to…put on airs…every time I'm around."

Anora was slightly surprised at his bluntness but impressed that he called her on her behavior. "Fair enough. Please stay," she invited and he finally turned to face her. "Kila also asked me to give you a chance. She seemed to think we are actually quite…compatible." Trying to make an effort, Anora smiled…which was as painfully awkward as the rest of the encounter.

Glancing at him, she could see the doubt in his eye, so she dropped her smile. Maybe it _was_ a mistake. With a frustrated sigh, she looked away. "This isn't easy for me," she admitted. There was a brief silence as Alistair watched Anora become visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her chair. Without looking up she pressed through what she had to say.

"I know that I was not the only woman in Cailan's heart." Not wanting to elaborate on that particular comment, she stared at her folded hands on the table before adding, "But nonetheless, I truly cared for him. And it's hard for me when…"

She looked up and met his eyes, "It's hard for me because when I look at you, all I see is Cailan." She broke the eye contact and stared back down at her hands. Her cheeks flushed slightly.

Alistair slid into the chair across from Anora as he contemplated what she had said. With that simple admission, her no-nonsense façade made so much sense. The notion occurred to him that he had just, for the first time, caught a glimpse of the real Anora, the woman behind the stony face. It was oddly satisfying. Gently, he spoke up, "I still have a hard time thinking of myself as Cailan's brother… so I never would have thought of it that way. But I understand what you're saying."

"Yes well…" Anora let the thought trail off unfinished. Awkwardly, both of them started looking around the room trying desperately to find something else to focus their attention on. There was nothing.

Wringing his hands, Alistair finally spoke again, "Well…what if we tried to get to know each other better? Maybe eventually you can see me as just Alistair…and not as Cailan's brother?"

Hesitantly, Anora finally nodded. It was a sound theory.

"Right then, I'll start" Alistair continued. Nervously, he smoothed out the wrinkles of his tunic, quickly trying to come up with something to say. A boyish grin started tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked over at her. She raised her eyebrow at his sudden change of expression. As his grin grew larger, he finally said, "My name is Alistair and I am very fond of cheese."

Anora's eyes widened at his preposterous statement. In the interest of being polite, she wanted to hold back, but she could not…

She laughed.


	18. The Mystified

_**Author's Note**: I really hope you are enjoying taking this journey with me :) But...and I hate to say this because it might not happen but I am in the process of moving so I might not be able to keep with the once a week, there might be big gaps for the next couple chapters. I'll try to stay on schedule, but it's just a possiblility._

* * *

Even though he told her to take her time, he continued to stare at her expectantly. Her eyebrows were deeply furrowed in frustration as she stared back at the man, desperately trying to grasp on to the illusive knowledge in her mind. Finally her face screwed up in a look of defeat as she turned to face the crowded market beside them. The noise so easily sidetracked her. But yet it was muffled. With a sigh she rubbed her eyes, trying to think back to what she was supposed to be doing.

Finally the man gently chuckled, "Well this will do us no good. It's obviously too distracting." Like a caregiver leading the elderly, the man carefully guided her by her elbow. Turning her in the opposite direction, they made their way away from the market until the muffled noises became too distant to focus on.

He led her to a grouping of barrels and helped her get settled on one. Taking her hand and sitting next to her, he asked, "Is that better?"

Slowly she nodded, taking in their new surroundings. They were still in the city, but there were few people here – it was quiet and open. Looking to the side of her, she saw a large gateway and just beyond she could see more buildings. The gate was hoisted opened, but seemed out of place, like it was separating the city from itself. As out of place as it seemed, it began to feel very familiar. Staring at the buildings in the distance, it started to come back to her. "That is…the Alienage?"

Following her gaze, he nodded, "Yeah, I suppose it is."

"And I used to live there," she added.

The man frowned slightly and in an uncertain tone he answered, "I suppose you would have."

Growing in confidence she nodded, "Yes. Yes I did." She could remember going for walks with her cousin to the local general store to buy a handful of candy – she preferred the tart ones, but her cousin liked the sweet candies. _Hurry up Kila _her cousin would call to her…Kila?

Looking up at the man, she repeated the name that echoed in her mind, "Kila? I am Lady Kila." His eyes lit up at her progress as he nodded encouragingly. As the memories came back to her, she continued on haltingly, "But I no longer live there because…a man…took me away after…the wedding…after the killing." She frowned not sure she was happy to be remembering.

"Then there was fighting. Darkspawn. It was a Blight." Her eyes bore a hole in the ground as she thought intensely.

Suddenly, she looked up at the man. "I remember. I am a Grey Warden. We stopped the archdemon. Alistair became King, and Zevran became my husband. And we took over the Howe Estate to train more Wardens and…" the words kept tumbling out of her mouth but finally she clamped her mouth shut and her face froze. Of course, it seemed so obvious, his perfect features, his disarming smile…

"And…you're Jace." She felt him tighten his grip on her hand as she said his name.

"Hi," he smiled as he added, "It's nice to finally see you again."

She was relieved to remember, as unpleasant as some of the memories were, but surprised she had forgotten in the first place. Zevran and the estate are what made her whole. How could she forget? But even in her relief, something urged her to keep going. Something still wasn't quite right. Suspiciously, Kila looked up at Jace when suddenly it came flooding back.

_Join us bothers and sisters…one by one, the men fell with their faces twisted in horror…should this not work, should I not survive, I just want to say that it has been an honour, an incredible honour…the silver chalice sailing through the air, spilling the black liquid on the stones…_

_Should I not survive_. He did not.

Revolted, she jerked her hand away, "But you're dead, I killed you…_I watched you die_…"

He winced at her choice of words and instantly started to correct her, "I didn't survive the Joining, but you didn't kill me Kila."

"Yes I did. I chose you, I fed you the poison, I cut your life short…" She could no longer meet his eyes, as his horrific death played over in her mind.

Casually he shrugged, "I suppose you could see it that way. But the reality is that your entire life ultimately leads you towards the afterlife. So once you complete that journey, it just doesn't seem important how you got here or whether you lived to old age or not. It just no longer has any consequence." Scrutinizing her thoughtful expression he paused. "Wait…you've been holding on to that all this time haven't you?"

At first, she huffed, attempting to brush it off. But it didn't feel right to lie to Jace, he could obviously see through that. Clenching her jaw she merely shrugged. The truth was she held on to the guilt so tightly it paralyzed her.

Lovingly, he reached over to brush a stray piece of hair from her face much like a father would to his daughter, and he rested his crooked finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me. It's important for you to understand Kila, it might have been unpleasant – you went through the Joining yourself so you know that but…but once I was freed from it, it was over. I was able to move on, none of it stayed with me…" He paused to try and find just the right words to explain this to her.

Meanwhile, what he said registered with her, but she kept feeling a sense of urgency. A push to keep following her train of thought. Suddenly, the next step in the line of logic struck her. If he was dead, and she was with him…

"_Wait_," she blurted as she scrambled to her feet. "That means I'm dead," she hissed at Jace as she started backing away.

Surprised, he stopped trying to sort out his wording and slid off the barrel. "Wait Kila," he spoke carefully, "I'm not sure you are…"

Kila continued to back away until she finally knocked into a barrel, causing it to rock behind her. "But I can't be. What about Zevran? What about…" she paused as her hands dropped down to her stomach. It was flat. "Maker's breath…_my baby_?"

Quickly, Jace closed the gap between them and firmly grabbed her shoulders. "Kila stop!" His voice had a hard edge to it as he moved his face closer to hers, "Kila, I don't think you're dead."

Blinking, she finally heard what he was saying, "What?"

"Kila, is the Fade. The dead only pass through on their way to the afterlife."

She quickly shook her head, trying to make sense of all the thoughts racing through her brain, "But…you're here" she pointed out.

He loosened his grip on her and sighed. "Well yeah. I haven't got everything figured out," he admitted. "But I still don't think you're dead. I mean, you're far too distraught to be disconnected from the physical world. It just doesn't seem right."

Again she shook her head trying not to drown in confusion. This was getting her nowhere. Finally she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Her emotions would not serve her well, she needed to be able to think logically. Breathing deeply, she willed herself to relax and focus. Slowly she could feel the emotions recede and her commanding countenance take over much like when she prepared for battle. Finally she opened her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, as she tried to make sense of it, "You say that, but wouldn't dying be distressing?"

It was obvious that he again struggled to find the right words to explain the journey of death, "Well…yes and no. The transition period was a bit _disorienting_ yes but it felt more like being pushed along a path. Once you're here, the rest of it is of little consequence. For you to be so upset at the idea of losing Zevran just tells me you're still connected to that world."

Losing Zevran and… "_My baby_," she whispered, again clutching at her flat stomach.

Pursing his lips together his shoulders drooped slightly. "I'm sorry Kila, I really don't have much for answers."

Reaching over, she put a hand on his arm, struggling to rise above her emotions. "So what do we do now?" Focusing on strategy always helped her stay centered.

For a moment, he merely chewed his lip, clearly unsure what the next step should be. "Well…" he started out slowly, "I suppose we could try…"

Suddenly he stopped and she could feel his body tense under her hand. "We run." He said suddenly.

She blinked. "What?"

"Run," he repeated and grabbed her by the arm, "_We run_! Don't you feel it?" His calm demeanor suddenly gave away to his rising panic and he started pulling her. Out of confusion, she resisted. _Feel it_?

Then…she _felt_ it. It was in her chest, a deep vibration, like when Leliana sat next to her, striking a low note on her lute. It was as deep in her as her own heartbeat. Surprised, she gave Jace a startled look.

"A demon," he answered, again pulling at her arm as he turned to run.

"What? That's impossible," she breathed.

"The Fade _is _their realm," he reminded her. Her heart pounded at his words. He was right. Swiftly, she started running, allowing him to guide the way trying to keep the panic from over taking her again. They were not equipped to battle a demon…

A disturbing thought occurred to her. Her limited experience in the Fade had taught her that nothing was as it seemed. Stopping suddenly, she wrenched her arm away from him. He brought himself to a halt and looked back at her, clearly baffled by her dramatic change of heart. Through her hard breathing she cried, "How do I know you aren't a demon?"

"What?"

"How do I know _you _aren't a demon?" she repeated. "It would explain why you're in the Fade and not the afterlife."

Jace looked stunned, like her words had slapped him. "I…I…" for once he was at a complete loss. Helplessly he shrugged his shoulders, "I guess you don't know that. I can't even tell you something a demon wouldn't know…they can know anything…"

Again, she felt the vibration in her chest. They were heavy footsteps that tore through her body. He obviously felt it too as he stiffened and looked around. Her head started to pound as the blood raced through her veins. What to do? She had to make up her mind quickly as she instinctively knew the unseen force was quickly covering ground.

"Please," Jace begged, stretching his hand out to her, "If you can't trust me…you must trust yourself. What does your heart tell you?"

He was right…her mind was useless, logic was clouding her judgment. Affording herself one quick glace behind her, she sprinted towards Jace, reaching for his hand…


	19. The Plan

_**Author's Note:** I tried to catch all the typos but I'm literally typing this chapter up between packing boxes. After it sat in my head begging be written for a week, I couldn't ignore it anymore. I really wanted to share it :) So I hope the mistakes don't bother you too much, and I really, really hope you enjoy!_

"But my dear lady, you do not seem to understand what I am saying," Zevran pushed.

In a surprising display of shortened patience Wynne's words were sharp, "No Zevran, you're the one who doesn't understand. I can keep casting on Kila of course, but to what end? There is no magic in all of Thedas that can counteract the effects of no food. Despite what I do, without nourishment, her body will start to deteriorate until finally it gives out and…"

Wynne stopped as Zevran raised his hand, calling for silence. Looking from his hand to his face, she watched the desperation melt away to reveal cold determination. "My good woman," his tone was low and almost threatening, "I am an _assassin_. I should hardly think it necessary for you to lecture me on the ways a person may die."

A shiver ran through Wynne. Within seconds her good friend was gone and she was staring into the face of a stone cold killer. He didn't need to remind her that he was an assassin; his icy eyes said it all. She had heard stories of his conquests but it had always been hard to imagine the cocky sleaze that joined them being able to do such things. It was even harder imagining the Zevran she had since come to know, doing such things. However, in this moment, it was hard to imagine him _not _doing such things. In fact, she could quite easily picture him reaching out and attacking her with movements too quick for her eyes to track. Part of her wanted to take a step back, but instead she raised her chin, exuding confidence she no longer felt.

"I think you would agree that since she fell, I have spent a great deal of time with Kila, yes? More than anyone in fact. With no signs of improvement for days, I have begun attempting to gather all my strength for…the end. So trust me when I say I fully comprehend your concern. But my point is this, during all that time, I have seen no hint of life in her face – no expression, no twinges, not even a sigh. This morning…I saw _her_." His eyes softened somewhat, but she did not dare to interrupt. Tolan moved from his spot near the door to stand beside Zevran, who in turn rested his hand on his head. As if to add to the conversation, Tolan let out a growl that turned into a sharp bark. "Yes, yes my friend…Tolan was witness as well. She distinctly grimaced and moaned…as if in pain…you must understand why we absolutely cannot give up on her now."

"I'm not suggesting we give up on her, I'm merely…"

"Are you not?" Zevran smoothly cut Wynne off. "You are suggesting you no longer cast upon her, if that is not giving up I do not know what is. I am simply asking why we are entertaining the notion of giving up on her, when it is clear we need to help her."

Wynne's exasperation was evident as she sputtered, "Help her? What do you think I have been doing?"

"I am surprised that as a mage, you cannot see this," he sighed but kept his cool demeanor, "I fear she has run into a…problem…in the Fade."

"Wait," Wynne brought her hands up to rub her temples, trying to absorb this information.

Zevran did not wait; he pushed his point further, "Have we not come across similar situations in the past? Exactly how many times did a creature of the Fade interfere with us in some capacity on our journey leading to the Blight? Between her time in the Fade and how many demons she dispatched…is it so inconceivable that one of them is exacting revenge?"

Wynne froze, keeping her hands still on her temples as her eyes snapped open. "I see." She said simply as she started to nod. It was entirely possible…

"We must seek the Circle," Zevran said quietly.

Dropping her hands, Wynne let out a long breath of air as she shook her head, "I'm afraid that won't do us any good. Not only will her body not hold out that long but the Circle will not get involved unless there is proof of demon activity. And if there is proof of that…we run the risk that the Templars will simply destroy her."

Zevran cast his eyes to the floor as his mind effortlessly raced to the next option, "What of that Jowan fellow from Red Cliff?"

Wynne's eyebrows furrowed deeply at the mention of his name. She had been at the Circle Tower during his escape, so while she had only heard of what happened at Red Cliff, she knew the lad very well. "Absolutely not. He is back with the Circle of Magi, and I'm not sure if he is even still alive…"

"Another blood mage then," Zevran said flatly.

Finally, Wynne paused and looked into the elf's eyes. They were still set in steely determination, not giving her a hint of the emotions churning within. Blinking rapidly, she shook her head again, "You can't ask me to work with a…_blood mage_. Besides, I won't know who to talk to."

"We used to run into them all the time. I refuse to believe that contacting one now would be so impossible," his words finally became heated as his hand clenched into a fist. Wynne stiffened…the only thing more unnerving than his heartless gaze was his anger. Quickly, Zevran forced that anger to subside. "Kila did some work for the Mage's Collective. I am confident there are some remaining contacts that Leliana could look into. I respect your unwillingness to work with a blood mage, and I am sure she can find both a blood mage and an apostate to help, especially after all that Kila did for the Collective," he reasoned.

Still, Wynne protested, "No. We would have to sacrifice someone else to send the apostate into the Fade and…"

Without flinching, Zevran interrupted, "Yes. And that will be me."

Wynne fell silent, and even Tolan looked up at his companion questioningly. Zevran removed his hand from Tolan's head and crossed his arms, keeping his stare even. Tolan whined and butted his head into Wynne's leg, trying to push her into some sort of action. She stood unmoving.

Before she could naysay this as well, Zevran added, "Death happens. I do not fear my demise. But after much struggle I…realize that I do fear hers." His voice threatened to crack, but held steady. Wynne studied his face. Anyone else looking at him might think he was mad. His hair was in disarray, his clothes were thoroughly wrinkled, there were dark circles around his eyes that heavily accented the bags under them, and his bronzed skin seemed slightly pale. However, as she looked into his eyes, she could see his sanity was still intact. Even torn apart by his grief, he was ever the intelligent and calculating one of their makeshift family. Slowly, she closed her eyes, feeling her heart drop. There would be no way to talk him out of this course of action.

"I will hear no more opposition. What I need for you to do is tell Leliana to reconnect with the Collective." Dismissing her on this note, he turned from her and moved back to Kila's side. Tolan whimpered loudly as she made her way to the door.

Had the room not been so quiet, Wynne would have missed it, but in a voice barely above a whisper she heard him utter, "Please just hold on my Ki…"

~~s~~

She felt as though they had been running for an eternity. Her feet pounded hard as they hit the ground, but her lungs began to feel like they were going to explode in her chest…if such a thing were possible in the Fade. It was surprising to her how sharply she felt things here. Finally slowing, she forced her thought out between her gasps for air, "How are we still in the city? I thought I knew where the gate was but…"

Jace braced himself on his knees as he hunched over, also trying to catch his breath, "I don't know," he panted, "It doesn't make any sense." Both of them could still feel the steady vibration in their chest but their need to stop overtook their panic.

"Maybe…" she inhaled deeply to control her breathing, "Maybe the demon isn't chasing is…maybe it already has us." Jace shot her a look of disbelief and she shrugged, "It would explain why we can't make it out of the city wouldn't it?"

"Hmm…I suppose it would." Finally he straightened up and began to pace, "This is too focused to be random Lady Kila. Do you remember if you've…angered…a demon in your past?"

A cramp caught Kila's side and she grimaced, lifting her arm above her head. Angered a demon? Her mind skipped back to Red Cliff…Honnleath…Circle Tower…Deep Roads…She replied through gritted teeth, "You'd have to be more specific."

Finally, the vibration was stunningly powerful and they both glanced at each other with an exhausted look of resignation. In synchrony, they turned to run.

"We need ideas, this is useless," she cried.

As she finished her last word, there was a tremendous roar behind her. _Had it reached them?_ She turned to look as the force from the noise caught up to her and sent her flying forward. Crashing into the ground, she could taste the dirt in her mouth as the air was knocked from her lungs.

Trying desperately to focus, her limbs betrayed her as they refused to respond. Distantly behind her, she heard Jace shout, "_You can't have her!_" She tried to scream for him to run…


	20. The Preparation

_**Author's Note: **I am back, and we are nearing the end of my story. The next couple chapters will be awkward because I see from here on in that it should be one big chapter, but time-wise I can't do it that way. So the breaks between might seem strange, but hopefully it's not too distracting!_

* * *

"My my, aren't you a most efficient little vixen?" Zevran asked with a chuckle.

Leliana couldn't hide her look of concern as she reached over and put her hand on Zevran's arm. Her voice was quieter than usual, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Ah," he almost sounded disappointed that she refused to engage in lighthearted banter. He dropped his arm, gently breaking her hold and her hand hung awkwardly at her side. In silence, Zevran examined the parchment in his hand for several minutes before verbally acknowledging the hooded figure standing in the doorway. With a definitive nod he stated, "I find the conditions of your payment agreeable."

"Very good sir," he man replied as he bowed.

Finally looking up from the parchment into the face of the hooded figure, he added, "And if you successfully gather your associates here to begin before nightfall, I shall double your requested payment."

Even with the hood partially covering his face, it was impossible to miss the man's sudden wide-eyed expression. "That is…most generous," he exclaimed, losing his mysterious composure for a moment.

"And," Zevran continued, "I expect I should not need to remind you how important your utter discretion is. Not a single word of this can leak out to the public…"

"Not a word," the man quickly agreed as he bowed deeply and backed out of the room, leaving the pair alone. Zevran knew that often the very lives of those involved in the Mage's Collective depended on secrecy, but he still felt it warranted being mentioned.

Stiffly, Leliana crossed her arms and took a moment to look her friend over. For the first time in days, he looked good and not just a shadow of his former self. His eyes still had dark circles and his skin was still slightly unhealthy looking, but his hair was perfectly set and his clothes were fresh. He offered her a resigned smile and she dropped eye contact, not meaning to stare.

"My dear Leliana, do not look at me so. You need not be sad for me…"

"You don't have to do this," she whispered. Her voice could not be much louder without faltering.

"My dear, but I do." He paused for a moment before continuing, "It is a choice between the hero of Ferelden – the mighty Warden charged with rebuilding the order…or an orphan raised in a whorehouse. The choice is obvious."

Leliana shook her head, "That's not fair. And besides, what will happen to the estate if you're gone too?"

"Might I remind you the point of this venture is to _save _Kila? But even so, Kila's legacy in this estate will live on. There are many capable," he paused and corrected himself, "_gifted _people here that can keep the wheels turning until reinforcements arrive from Orlais…"

"This isn't right," Leliana pushed.

Zevran sighed as he smiled patiently, "You must think of it in these terms …I will die, yes? But I do not fear death, so it is of little consequence. However, if Kila is in the grips of a demon, then what she will be suffering is far worse than mere death. How could I not do this?"

Finally, Leliana cracked. It was too much. With anger-fueled words she sputtered, "But…you don't _know _that. What if you…do all this and there _is no demon_? What if she really is just slowly dying from natural complications and we need to _let her die_?"

In disbelief, she clapped her hand over her mouth and turned away from Zevran, horrified that such words fell out of her lips.

Zevran knew better. He knew the incredible pressure both she and Wynne faced in the last several days while he curled up next to his lover in her chamber. Leliana was a strong woman, but even strong women had their limits. Tenderly, he reached over and squeezed her shoulder, holding no ill will over her choice of words. "Well," he said slowly, "Then this world offers me nothing, no?"

He watched as she tightly squeezed her eyes closed and bowed her head. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but it was the truth. Haltingly, he finally released her shoulder and walked from the room.

~~s~~


	21. The Preparation Part 2

_**Author's Note: **Unfreaking believable! I don't now how I managed it, but after going through my chapter for the umpteenth time before I posted it...I deleted the second half of the chapter before saving. I'm sorry everyone, the little Leliana/Zev blurb was supposed to move into this and be posted as one! But since there are already comments, I'll just post this as the part 2 of that chapter. Apparently my brain hasn't actually started up again since all the craziness of this last month =/_

Spitting dirt from her mouth, Kila finally wretched free from the ground. Scrambling to her feet, she kept her stance low and defensive as she spun around to face…nothing. Absolutely nothing. No demon. No buildings. No vendor stalls. Nothing.

Jace stood several feet in front of her, with his fists still up in a challenge to nothing. Hearing her stir, he finally turned around, clearly as bewildered as Kila. "Where are we?" he breathed the words they were both thinking.

Shaking her head, Kila kept looking around. They were in a small clearing, covered with what appeared to be dried grass. The ground gently rolled and met with a ridge before them that jutted too high for her to see the top. Carefully, Jace picked his way through the bits of dried grass and stood beside Kila as they continued to glance at their new surroundings.

"Where are we?" she echoed him, in a louder voice.

"_You are safe_," the unmistakable words floated down to the pair from an unseen source.

Quickly, they both spun around to find nothing behind them. Nervously, they reached for one another's hands, trying to find a small bit of assurance in this disorienting situation.

"Who are you?" Jace called out in a surprisingly confident voice. "Show yourself!"

The disembodied voice seemed amused as it replied, "_Jace Valence. You have done well._"

Doubt crept in as Jace repeated, "Done well?"

"_As Kila's guide_."

Jace shot Kila a look of confusion, "What?"

"_Although, interestingly, it was Ruck who found her. And he has passed on to the afterlife. It is a strong bond he has to her. A remarkably strong bond,_" the voice mused thoughtfully.

Ruck…the taint addled dwarf from the Deep Roads. The voice that called her from the blackness. Another obvious connection clicked in Kila's head and she held back a quick rush of emotion with a clenched jaw. Finally she growled, "Who are you?"

"_A friend_," the voice calmly replied before adding, "_Jace you have done your job. You are free to leave now_."

As those words were spoken, Kila suddenly felt as though she were holding feathers in her hand. Shocked, she glanced down to see Jace's hand was becoming transparent. She pulled away in surprise and looked up at Jace's face to see it too was becoming transparent. "Jace?" she asked, panic seeping into her tone.

His face reflected that panic as he looked down at his hands, flipping them over to see both sides. Kila pressed her fingers to her mouth as she helplessly watched her only friend fade. After a brief moment, Jace's face suddenly lit up. With a smile, he simply said, "It's okay."

Then he was gone.

Frantically, Kila tried to hold back her tears as the overwhelming sense of abandonment rushed through her. Try as she might, she was hardly able to grasp her situation, and now she was alone. She felt like a lost child. Silently, she desperately wished Zevran were with her – his quick wit always cut through such nonsense. Even though she fared better than he did on their last encounter in the Fade, she knew he could make sense of this all. Weakly, she asked again, "Who are you?"

A rustle behind her caught her attention and she quickly turned to face the noise. A figure was coming down the side of the ridge on a hidden path. She could see white hair on the person's crown, and squinted in an attempt to see more details.

Finally, the figure came into view and Kila gasped. It was a woman with her white hair pulled back. She had loving eyes and yet a stern demeanor. She was dressed in a mage robe. Wynne. Wynne smiled kindly at Kila, but remained quiet.

Kila shook her head, this was impossible. Her face screwed up in confusion as she murmured, "No. You…you can't be Wynne, she is still alive."

Instantly, the form shimmered and blurred. Subconsciously, Kila took a step back as her pulse began to quicken again. Part of her demanded she run, but she was paralyzed by fascination. It came back into focus and she felt her blood run cold as a distant memory stirred in the depths of her mind. Again, she knew it was impossible but she _wanted_ to believe. Maybe it could be…she was dead after all, and this was the Fade…

After a long pause she finally whispered, "Mom?"

As quickly as she said it, the rational part of her mind took over. If that was truly her mother, why would it look like Wynne first? Coldly, she shook her head to snap herself out of it. No. It was a mind game, it was a cruel joke, but it was not her mother.

"You _are _a demon," Kila accused, slowly backing away.

The figure smiled and started to advance.


	22. The Caution

_**Author's Note: I** really am sorry if I've disappointed anyone with the direction I've taken this story. It is exactly what I planned on before I even typed a single word though, so I hope I didn't lose too many people with it. And if you are enjoying it, I'm completely thrilled :)_

As the figure advanced, it began to blur until the features of her mother were no longer recognizable. "_You misunderstand_," it assured her as it finally stopped moving. "_We are not demons, and no harm shall befall you. I merely sought forms you would recognize to put you at ease… I see the folly of that now_."

Unconvinced, Kila stood back and stared at the figure. It was now a vaguely human shape but did not seem solid at all…rather it was like a blue fog that took a loose form. She waited for a moment, morbidly curious at what shape it would change to, but it remained as it was. Finally, she asked, "If you are not a demon, then are you one of the benevolent spirits that Wynne has spoken of?"

It paused thoughtfully before answering, "_We are closer to that than to a demon. But a more accurate comparison would be to your worldly scholars, only we have the ability to interact with the subjects of which we study_."

"Interact…" she repeated. In the Fade, she felt like even simple concepts were hard to understand. She pressed on, even though logical thoughts were as elusive as wisps of a dream, "To interact with me…did…did you _bring_ me here?"

The Fade spirit shook its head as it quickly replied in its distant-seeming voice, "_No, we did not. When the body experiences a serious enough trauma, often times the spirit will leave. This was the case with you, only you…got lost – hence your need for assistance. We knew you would arrive, but did not orchestrate it. We merely chose to take advantage of this opportunity_."

"So," she tried to piece it together aloud, "if you are scholars…and I'm just going to assume you have associates and that's why you speak in plural…and you can interact with what you study…and you're interacting with me…then…"

"_We study you_," it filled in simply. "_More to the point, we are interested in the events surrounding you. We noticed you in particular after you came into the company of one we have already associated with_."

"Wynne," she stated, and it did not correct her. "Alright. So then, what do you want with me?" Kila kept her gaze even and her façade a calm one, but the truth was, she was reeling. Wynne had spoken to her at great length how many spirits of the Fade, both good and bad, were fascinated with their realm. Demons would often take this fascination a step further by attempting to possess someone so they could move freely in the world rather than merely watch. As a mage, Wynne had to be well versed in these facts as mages were the targets due to their natural connection to the Fade. Even knowing these as facts, Kila could feel whatever small grip she still had on reality slipping away.

"_We wish to make you aware of events that have yet to come_."

Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion, "You mean…warn me?"

"_Make you aware_," it repeated. "_of events that make come to pass, and perhaps offer a suggestion_." Kila inclined her head, trying to portray cool interest. The Fade spirit continued, "_Ferelden has not yet seen an end to its dark times, and again, you have the potential key for salvation. But you must start preparing. Your lands need a united front, and this includes all the Grey Wardens you have been denying_."

Inwardly, Kila cringed at its bluntness. The spirit did not say this accusingly, but its matter-of-fact tone almost made it more bothersome. She knew she had been failing in her duties as Ferelden's head Grey Warden, but to have it stated to her to simply with no room for interpretation still stung. Steering away from that subject she asked, "What do you mean, dark times?"

Suddenly, there was a rustle behind her. As she turned towards it, she realized there was a tree line at the edge of the clearing. Was that there before? Peering at the trees, she saw a flash of movement. Purple. Pale face. Black hair blending with the shadows. Before she could stop herself she called out, "Morrigan?"

Almost in response, a small white wolf came trotting out of the trees. It paused and sniffed at the air for several moments before rounding back and heading into the trees again. She knew it was unlikely, that Morrigan would never get caught up in such a rouse as this, but part of Kila wished it was real. Holding true to her word, Kila had not seen Morrigan since the defeat of the arch demon and she didn't realize how much that hurt…until now. She was pulled out of her thoughts abruptly when there was more movement in the trees. A small wolf pup emerged into the clearing mimicking the larger wolf by stopping to sniff the air before moving back into the tree line.

Kila was stunned, and the night she actively kept pushed from her mind came flooding back. At the time, she was so desperate to survive the ordeal with the arch demon that giving Morrigan a child in exchange for their lives seemed sensible. Alistair protested, but ultimately was also anxious enough for survival to physically give her the child. Morrigan seemed so genuinely interested in helping her friends from certain disaster that her interest in the child seemed unimportant…at the time.

Keeping her gaze on the trees for more movement, Kila continued to speak to the spirit over her shoulder, "If I understand what you are showing me, Morrigan will be the dark times?" Silence. She shook her head in response. "No, I can't believe that. She might not have been the most tactful person, but I _know_ her. She is…unconventional…but she's not evil. She certainly can't be the harbinger of our doom," Kila finished in a sardonic tone.

"_Her intentions are unknown_," it admitted, remaining frustratingly vague.

Finally turning back to the spirit she asked, "What are you saying?"

"_Nothing is written firmly, therefore we cannot present possibilities as fact. We do know, however, you will find yourselves on opposites sides of the conflict"_ the Fade spirit paused and its words hung in the air.

A shiver involuntarily ran through her body. Morrigan might not _intend_ to be on the side of whatever darkness will befall Ferelden but…it was an uncomfortable thought. What role would she play? Knowing how powerful of an ally she was, she dreaded thinking of that power in an enemy. And how strong would her child be?

As if reading her thoughts, the Fade spirit continued, "_Do not despair. As I have mentioned, you will be the one to hold the key to salvation…"_

Kila opened her mouth to ask what that would be. Before she could speak, however, a loud giggle stopped her short. Turning towards the excited laugh, she found herself in a room that seemed oddly familiar. When her eyes settled on the cause for the noise, she gasped and froze.

Before her, Zevran was casually laying on his side, propped up by his arm. Across from him, sat a little child with her feet tucked under her. In his usual cocky tone, Zevran commented to the girl, "Well my little lovely, perhaps you do not understand the point behind the top. It is to see how long it will spin each time you see, not…not slap it down before it has had a chance to dance!"

As he spoke, he expertly spun the top with his slender fingers. The young girl closely watched the top like a hunter would watch its prey. As soon as the movement became erratic, she couldn't seem to help herself and her hand flew out to knock the top over. Again, she shrieked with laughter.

With a resigned sigh, Zevran chuckled, "Ah well, who am I to stand in the way of your happiness, hmm?"

The girl looked up and him and scooted over on her knees. Leaning over, she planted an affectionate kiss on his cheek, "I love you Daddy."

From where she stood, Kila could see Zevran's eyes swell with pride. She herself was suddenly hit with a wave of emotion. Before Zevran could reply to the girl, she looked up and spied Kila, "Mum's here!" she cried as she hopped up and came running over to meet her.

Kila was surprised, "She can see me?" she whispered to the Fade spirit that she assumed was still behind her.

"_As you can see, she suffers no ill taint effects. In fact, from what we understand of elven standards, she is quite beautiful_," the spirit's voice floated to her.

The little girl stood before Kila, staring up at her with the same bright, honey coloured eyes as Zevran. Her blonde hair was pulled into pig tails and flowed past her shoulders, much like she used to wear her own hair as a child. The girl smiled widely at Kila, and she recognized her own smile in that little face.

None of it mattered anymore. Jace, Morrigan, the Fade…none of it. As she stared down into the shining eyes of this treasure, the rest of it melted away. She was overcome with emotion. Slowly, Kila knelt down and reached towards the girl with trembling hands as she carefully cupped her small face. Beautiful? She was perfect.

The girl reached over and wiped away tears from Kila's cheeks. She didn't realize she was crying. With a sudden look of concern, the girl frowned, "Don't be sad Mum."

Kila's chin trembled as she tried to calm herself. Blinking away the tears that were now blurring her vision, she shook her head, "I'm not sad sweetheart." Kila murmured the words so quietly she wasn't sure she said them out loud at all.

Grabbing her hand and giving a gentle tug, the girl turned back to Zevran, "Come play with us Mum!"

"Yes my Ki, come join us for a rousing game of slap the top," Zevran urged with a tender smile.

Kila remained kneeling at the edge of the room, too afraid to move and break the scene before her. The girl settled back down across from Zevran, and the both looked over at Kila expectantly but said nothing more.

"_We see her being an important part of the events ahead_," the spirit reiterated its point, trying to impress the importance on her. "_But if you do not return quickly, this will be lost…_"

As the spirit spoke, the scene began to dissipate. "No," she begged, as tears freely fell. _Just a little longer._

The Fade spirit crossed in front of her, forcing her to acknowledge it as it repeated itself, "_She has yet to be conceived. And if you do not return quickly, this will be lost_."

Kila felt the urgency in its words, and squinted her eyes through her tears. "What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously.

"_It __**all**__ may be lost_," it seemed to refuse to elaborate.

"How do I return?"

"_You simply wake up. Wake up Kila_"

Her vision began to blur beyond what tears could do. Alarmed, she quickly looked around, trying to find the cause as everything became unfocussed. Slowly, it went dark.


	23. The Devotion

_**Author's Note: **Thank you to all those who stuck with this story, and I really hope you like where it went. I have one more chapter to post after this and we'll have officially made it through :)_

* * *

For a moment, Leliana simply stared at the door, hesitating to enter. She had been in that room many times before, but this was different. The blood mages were at the estate, and these were Zevran's final moments alone with Kila before they would come to prepare in the chamber. Not only did she not want to interrupt him, but she didn't want to bring this day another step closer to its climax. Rationally, she knew her coming to speak to him would not speed up time, nor would avoiding him slow it down, but yet she stood unmoving.

Finally, taking a deep breath, she forced herself to quietly enter the chamber. Zevran smiled at her as she stepped past the doorway. Not sure what to say, she blurted, "Wynne is preparing at the moment, but she will be along very soon."

"Oh?" Zevran questioned, "I was left with the impression she will not work with blood mages."

"She won't," Leliana agreed. "She wants to be here to keep watch over them. They do not answer to the Mage's Collective you know."

Zevran arched his eyebrow, "No? And why is this?"

"The Mage's Collective still follows Chantry law, they just do it free of the Circle. Maleficar of any sort is not welcome," she explained.

Leaving the bedside, Zevran turned towards Leliana and carefully looked at her. Her creamy skin was unusually pale while her eyes were red and swollen. She had been crying. As he looked at her with a scrutinizing eye, he commented, "And yet, here they are at the estate. It would seem you went through far more trouble than I realized."

Even though Leliana had refused eye contact to this point, she drove her gaze directly to the floor, "I just wanted to help. To be a good friend. Because Zevran I can't…" her voice cracked and she was forced to pause. With her voice wavering, she finished, "I can't be here for this."

Wordlessly, Zevran crossed the room and gathered her in his arms. The height difference made it slightly awkward, but she welcomed him all the same. He deeply breathed the faint berry scent from her hair as he held her through the gentle trembles that rippled through her body. She kept her cries silent, but he could feel them and each one struck at his heart. As they hugged, he spoke gently, but firmly, "Fear not my dear, my life has been blessed because of amazing friends such as yourself. I only regret that I cause you this much pain in return."

Finally, Leliana stepped back and quietly dabbed her eyes, getting her emotions under control again. Firmly, he assured her, "You do not need to be here Leliana, and perhaps it would be better for the mages to have fewer distractions in the room, yes? Lovely women are _particularly_ distracting." Faintly she smiled, he was always the one to make light of everything, his own death would be no different.

The first mage entered the room. He quietly pushed his way through the open door and moved to pass by the pair. The sight of him made Leliana's heart drop – another step closer to the day's end.

Apparently, Tolan shared a similar sentiment. He had been sitting quietly by the bed, but suddenly lurched his feet and began to growl in a low, menacing tone at the mage. The mage froze with an obvious look of fear. He might not be entirely defenseless, but he was also not expecting to be attacked by a war hound. Tolan advanced as the fur on his back stood on end. The mage took several steps back, looking for someone to step in.

Leaving Leliana's side, Zevran swiftly moved between the two and spoke sharply to Tolan, "Absolutely not! In no way, will you harm a guest of the estate." Leliana also sprang into action, pulling the mage to the side of the room, well out of harm's way. Tolan kept his stare firmly fixed on the mage and started to side step Zevran. Smoothly, Zevran blocked him again, his tone growing more agitated, "Perhaps you did not hear me you mangy mongrel." Leaning down to talk directly into the mabari's face, he repeated, "You will not harm our guest. Not after I have asked him to come."

Finally, Tolan's glare broke as he looked into Zevran's eyes. His growling had subsided, but his stance was still threatening. Refusing to be intimidated, Zevran stared directly into his eyes. Not moving, he spoke calmly to Leliana over his shoulder, "My dear, if you would be so kind as to take our friend here with you, I would sincerely appreciate it."

"Of course," Leliana agreed and hurried over to the mabari. "Come with me Tolan," she encouraged. His stance relaxed, but he refused to move. Slipping her hand under his collar, she started to pull him towards the door. Still staring at Zevran, Tolan suddenly began to whine, and Zevran could see the worry through his eyes.

Impatiently he sighed, "This is to _help _your master. Trust me you mutt, you _want _this." Tolan had taken a few reluctant steps with Leliana but began to pitifully whimper louder, more urgently. He started resisting Leliana, wanting to move back to Zevran's side, but Leliana held firmly. Privately, Tolan's sorrowful looks were hitting Zevran as deeply as Leliana's tears, but he knew he couldn't falter on his resolve. He owed everything, even these friendships, to Kila and he refused to fail her. Living in Antiva, he had heard stories of how deeply those in Ferelden cared for their dogs, but never did he imagine _he _would join them. Watching this great war hound strain against Leliana as he whimpered and begged like a small pup weighed heavily on his heart. It was a bleak contrast to him tearing darkspawn apart.

"Please Tolan," Leliana pleaded as the tears started to well in her eyes again. His heartbreaking display reflected her own feelings that were quickly resurfacing.

Not showing his emotions, the Antivan clicked his tongue with irritation as he herded the war hound, "Do I have to start pushing you to get you out of here?" Meanwhile, the mage was inching further into the room along the wall, trying to stay out of the path of the two struggling with the large mabari.

Finally, steps from the door, Tolan pulled hard against Leliana, and refused to go any further. Zevran moved beside Leliana, preparing to grab the collar as well when Tolan threw his head back and howled. His despairing howls spoke of his anguish, and filled the ears of everyone in the room. It pushed Leliana past her breaking point and her hands slid from his collar as she quickly started wiping her tears away again. Even Zevran somberly stood still as Tolan cried.

Weakly, Zevran tried again, "Tolan, you must leave." Tolan howled again. Leliana turned away to try and stop from breaking down as well.

It was then that they heard it. It was a quiet noise, but in the brief pause between Tolan's cries, they distinctly heard a quiet voice as it croaked, "I happen…to agree with him…"

The noise stunned Tolan into silence as Leliana and Zevran turned towards the voice. There, on the bed, Kila's eyes were open and she was wearily looking over at the group. The moment was so surreal, everyone in the room froze in place. For an instant, Zevran feared he had had left reality behind.

"By the grace of Andraste," Leliana murmured as she dropped to her knees, breaking the trance. Her tears flowed freely as she repeatedly thanked the Maker. Her fingers found their way back into Tolan's fur as he stared at his wakened master.

In two steps, Zevran was at Kila's side, quickly arranging pillows behind her as she struggled to sit up, "My Ki…_my Ki_…" were the only words he could utter as he tried to stop her from moving too much. His mind was too scrambled to say anything more. Finally, Kila relented at his fussing, and rested limply on the pillows. Once she relaxed, he held her hand and simply stared at her in disbelief as his heart sat in his throat. Reassuringly, Kila squeezed his hand tightly, and he bowed his head to give a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker.

When he finally looked up, Kila saw the tears on his cheek. With a trembling hand, she reached towards his face. Clumsily, she wiped a tear and held it up so he could see it as it rolled down her finger. Her voice was raspy and each word was a great effort, but she spoke, "What's…this? I thought…I thought…death happens?" An exhausted, but wry smile played on her lips.

She could see the rush of emotion over take his face as he struggled to maintain control. More tears welled in his eyes, but he managed to keep his voice even, "In another lifetime, my Ki. That was another lifetime."

Before she could reply, he leaned in and pulled her close, scarcely believing but afraid to let go.


	24. The Gathering

_**Author's Note**: Turns out this last chapter has to be split in two - it was getting really long. I realize the last few chapters were rushed and it really came across in the quality of them. So I wanted to take my time (now that my move is done and I have that opportunity) and make the last chapter more rich again. Here is the first half and the last will be posted in a couple of days. Thank you so much for joining me on this, and I hope you enjoy._

"Zevran…who was that man? When I woke up?" Kila asked as she focused on the porridge in front of her, trying to look casual.

After Kila awoke, and Wynne tended to her, they managed to get water and a full bowl of soup into her before she fell asleep for the night. Zevran laid beside her, but there was no hope of sleeping. Part of him was too excited to sleep - he had been resigned to the fact that theirs was a story with a tragic ending and the sudden change was still surreal. However, part of him was worried she would not wake up this time and took comfort in simply watching the rise and fall of her chest. Tolan must have shared similar sentiments, because he too spent the night standing at her side, staring at her over the edge of the bed. It was heartwarming, sad, and eerie all at the same time. Before she woke, Zevran gathered some breakfast that he and Dilwyn assumed would be easy on her stomach that was now unaccustomed to food. After drinking some water, Kila felt ravenously hungry, but respected that she had to eat slowly.

"Who was he?" she pressed more firmly, looking over at him.

He cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as he replied, "No one of importance my dear. We began to suspect there was demonic interference preventing you from recovering. So we were merely planning to have someone help you…"

Slowly she nodded as she looked back down at her food, apparently satisfied. "Oh. I don't know much about these things, but I seem to remember it takes a lot of lyrium and…mage power. So there was a group from the Circle then?"

Zevran winced. It was an uncomfortable dance around the truth, especially when he was sure she already knew what it was. "Mmm, you see my Ki, we feared if we informed the Circle, they may dispatch the templars instead of mages…" Kila looked up from her food again with a severe expression on her face. For her part, she was finished with the dance. With a sigh, he clarified, "Yes, he was a blood mage."

"I see." Instantly, Red Cliff flashed before her eyes as she watched the blood mage perform the ritual that ultimately cost Lady Isolde her life. "So who…"

Unfalteringly, Zevran returned her gaze. Confirming her suspicions, he answered, "I could not very well ask someone else to do that…"

Without a word, she turned back to her food. What little taste the porridge did possess was gone now. Kila fell silent for a moment before quietly adding, "I never would have forgiven you, you know."

Ruefully, he smiled, "Yes, but I rather expected to be beyond the reach of your wrath by that point." Finally, she chuckled at him and his smile grew larger. "Although, I am not entirely sure such a place exists anymore…"

Quickly turning serious again, she sighed, "Well, for what it's worth, you were not far off with your idea of a demon. I think I _was_ pursued. But the encounter I had was with a Fade spirit. And it…showed me things. The future…or at least a possible future." Suddenly she stopped and a slight look of defeat crossed her face, "Does this sound crazy? No…I know this sounds crazy…" Tolan stared at Kila with concern in his eyes. Finally, she reached over and scratched behind his ear. Crazy or not, at least her mabari would still be there with her.

Zevran could not help but laugh, "Ah, my Ki. Since that fateful day when you choose to spare my life, I have been witness to many…grand and utterly bizarre things. You having a chat with a spirit of the Fade? That seems almost dull and mundane in comparison."

Kila was unable to join in his jesting. "They showed me our child," she said simply, trying to make him understand there was no room for joking.

His striking featured screwed up into a pained look as he realized no one had told her yet of her loss. It briefly knocked the air from his lungs. The news was so hurtful for him to accept, but that pain didn't compare to the idea of telling his Kila. His mouth went dry. Trying to muster up the words, he finally murmured, "Oh my Ki. I…do not know how to word this exactly but…"

She waved him into silence. "No, I know Zev. It's okay," she assured him and rested her hand over his. "I know I've lost this child. That is actually what sent me into the Fade as it turns out. The spirit told me that sometimes if we go through a trauma that is severe enough, the spirit will leave. I suppose if that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have seen our daughter though."

"A girl?" he interrupted. His tone carried neither disgust nor excitement…simply surprise.

Kila smiled and squeezed his hand. "Yes, a girl. But don't worry, she will have you so wrapped around her finger your back will hurt," she teased. He nodded thoughtfully and looked away from Kila, getting a distant look in his eye. She remained silent, letting him digest the news. If he truly believed what she had to say, and didn't shrug this off as insane ramblings, then this would be a lot of information for him to come to terms with at once.

After a few moments, he fixed his stare back on Kila, looking deep into her eyes. "A girl," he repeated as he smiled. Apparently he was taking her very seriously.

The breath of air she had been holding blew past her lips as she squeezed his hand again. "I think…she will be special…" His eyebrows lightly furrowed, not understanding her meaning. Her words began to pick up speed as she continued on, "She was beautiful, sweet, and perfect. But, I saw her play with this spinning toy and Zev, the way she watched it…it was like a predator stalking its prey. And then she reached out and struck at it with such speed…I guess it's a lot like you are in a battle, but it just felt odd seeing that in someone so young. The spirit suggested that she will have a very important role, but stopped short of telling me what exactly. I don't know if what I saw in her is why she might end up being important but…"

"My Ki?" Zevran finally interjected as he shook his head. She paused. "I am afraid you have lost me…"

"Right," she acknowledged, "I'll start from the beginning…"

Shortly after her quiet morning with Zevran, Kila insisted on gathering her closest friends for a meeting. Zevran tried to convince her to simply rest, but to no avail. Her idea of a compromise was waiting one day for the meeting, and promised to rest for the remainder of the day.

By the time everyone had arrived the next afternoon, she was already looking noticeably better. Wynne stopped her from doing much beyond the bed chamber, but was secretly impressed with her progress. Alistair, being the only one who was not already at the estate, was the last to arrive. Leliana greeted him at the bed chamber door, but stopped short when she saw Queen Anora was standing with him.

Leliana began to fidget uncomfortably and she searched for the nicest way to continue. "King Alistair and Queen Anora, how wonderful to see you both. But…uh…your Highness, it's just that Lady Kila was very specific with who she wanted in attendance and…"

Anora quickly put an end to Leliana's misery, "It's alright. I understand." Stiffly she turned away, now the one to fidget awkwardly. Alistair turned to quietly speak words of apology to her, also unsure of what to do now. Just leave her in the hall? That didn't seem right.

From the bed, Kila could see over Leliana's shoulder to the scene in the hall. Her eyes narrowed on Alistair's hands as they held Anora's while he whispered to her. Kila's heart fluttered. Could it be true? Did they finally give one another a chance? It's interesting what can happen in the pit of despair. Before Anora started walking away, Kila called out, "Leliana, please make sure the Queen comes too…"

The three looked at the bed in surprise, but did not argue as both Alistair and Anora made their way into the room. Kila smiled, "Ferelden is going to need a united front, and I can't imagine a more literal reality of that than to have both the King and Queen here."

With a bursting smile, Alistair hurried to Kila's side, "I'm so happy you're alright." Throwing formality to the wind, as usual, Alistair leaned over Kila to envelop her in a hug. It felt so good to hold her and know she is safe. It's something he was unsure he'd be able to do again and as he held her, he had to push back a rush of emotion. Finally, she had to tap his shoulder to remind him to let go of her, and he nervously laughed as he did.

Anora came up behind Alistair and clasped Kila's hand between hers. "It's so good to have you back and well," she said as she looked into Kila's eyes. Kila could sense Anora wanted to say more, but she refrained, and soon stepped back from Kila to find a place to sit.

It was not long until everyone had settled into a spot around the bed - Zevran, Leliana, Wynne, Alistair, and Anora. Tolan, of course, was also present, but he was lying by the bed and began to doze once everyone was settled. Kila bit her lip as, for the first time since she woke, she was plagued with uncertainty. Haltingly, she began, "I have some rather…incredible…things to tell you all. I already know how crazy it all sounds and frankly, can't fault you if you don't believe me but…when I was _gone_, I wandered lost and confused in the Fade. Eventually I was led to a Fade spirit who wanted to…make me aware, of things that might happen. But before I go into detail, I really need to know if each of you can accept that as a fact. I will not hold it against you if you cannot, but I also don't want to waste anyone's time." As unsure as she started out, she was sounding like her usual confident self before she finished.

Seriously, she passed her gaze over each of them until finally Wynne spoke up, "With my own personal connection to the Fade, you have said nothing so far that I would think to question."

Leliana added, "And it seems to me that you have forgotten when we met! But even after I told you of my vision, you still accepted me. You may have _thought _I was crazy, but you accepted me." Her laughter inexplicably put Kila at ease as they smiled at one another, "So don't worry about me, I will be able to accept anything you have to say."

With a shrug Alistair replied, "Yeah, and besides that, I ended up in the Fade with you once already. So after seeing it myself especially, there's no reason to doubt you."

Without meaning to, everyone ended up turning to Anora - the one person in the room who had not experienced the impossible scenarios the others had. Aware of the sudden attention, Anora shifted in her chair, as Alistair placed his hand on her knee for support. With only slight hesitation, Anora turned to Kila. "I will just say what everyone is thinking - I have not had the benefit that you all have with your experiences together on the road. I will admit that what you've said is…beyond my field of knowledge but," she paused for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. She knew the others did not regard her as a friend, and that made her even more careful with her words. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "But from the time that you and I spent together, I have come to see, among other things, your incredible rational intelligence. I will accept what you say because I trust _you_."

Graciously, Kila nodded. "I am glad to hear this from everyone," she heaved a sigh of relief. When she carried on, her tone was more at ease, knowing that now she was simply talking with supportive friends. "Alright…well this is so hard, I don't even know where to start…Like I already said, I was lost in the Fade but thanks to a guide, found myself in the company of a Fade spirit." She was not sure why she was reluctant to mention Jace's involvement, but decided not to force herself into sharing it. "This particular spirit compared itself to a scholar that studied our world…I suppose many of them do that, demons included, but this one did not seem malicious. In fact, it had more that one opportunity to trap me in the Fade but instead strove to get me back to my body before…" she paused to give Zevran a look out of the corner of her eye. The cryptic message from the spirit about returning before her daughter could never be a reality made much more sense now.

"It said that it, and what I can only assume are its associates, watch me. Or rather, the events surrounding me, and that includes you all. That's why I asked you to come here. The Blight was not the end of our troubles, and like with the Blight, I believe we will have to work together to overcome this new threat. I know there were more of us, but I think this is it; I don't think any of the others will find their way back to us to help this time. _In fact I know that_," she muttered under her breath before adding, "But, Leliana, I do not believe your return was entirely by accident and…"

"Wait," Alistair stopped her, "I'm sorry to interrupt but _new threat_? What is it?" He voiced the thoughts everyone had.

Regretfully, Kila shrugged, "_That_, I don't know exactly. The spirit insisted it was not warning me, but just showing me possible things to come, so unfortunately, the message was vague. I do know it is sinister and it will involve…Morrigan." Leliana and Wynne both quietly gasped. "And her child," Kila finished. The room fell completely silent and while she tried to stop herself from looking at Alistair, she knew he had paled.

"That swamp witch," Wynne muttered, her distain for the dark haired apostate dripping from her words. "I knew she was up to no good, but a child? How could she…"

Smoothly Zevran cut in, "How does any cunning woman? Only she would have even more at her disposal no?" Wynne nodded, accepting that answer.

Finally, Kila couldn't help it and afforded herself a quick glance at Alistair's direction. His face had grown stony and he stared forward. Deep down she knew that the truth would eventually come out, and the others might even feel betrayed that they weren't told but…seeing the frozen panic in Alistair's eyes broke her heart. They might have to eventually share their secret but not today. Sparing him, she agreed with Zevran, "Exactly."

Much to her surprise, Alistair shook his head. "No. Kila, we _have _to tell." Everyone turned to him with curious expressions. Not returning anyone's look, he pushed ahead with great difficulty, "Morrigan has a child…because…of me…"


	25. The Gathering Conclusion

Alistair's words stunned everyone into silence as they stared at him in disbelief. He did not return anyone's looks, and continued to focus on a spot on the bed. Leliana opened her mouth to start assaulting him with questions, and Kila opened her mouth to defend him.

It was Anora, however, that beat them both. Angrily, she shoved his hand off her knee as she scrambled to her feet. She clutched her chest with one hand and pointed at him accusingly, "You already _have_ an heir to the throne? And with that swamp whore no less? How could you do this to me? You mock me and _all_ of Ferelden!" Anora shrieked at him.

Alistair's pained expression said it all, but he mumbled, "No…it wasn't like that…"

"Well, one thing's for certain," Anora cut off his words. Her voice had lowered considerably but took on a very sharp edge, "We won't have to worry about me seeing Cailan when I look at you anymore. He may have done things that were a bit naive and fool hearty, but he would _never_ have done anything so despicable." She turned her back to him and crossed her arms. "I can't even look at you," she said more to herself than to him.

With his cheeks flushing bright red, Alistair dropped his gaze to the floor. As Kila watched Alistair's heartbreak, something in her snapped. Heat rushed through her body as she felt the urge to fly out of the bed and react. Quickly, however, something else stilled her. She was no longer the kid from the Alienage with free reign to act out with a chip on her shoulder. She was no longer the disgruntled new Warden who had no choice but to grudgingly carry on forward. She was no longer even the hero of a country, filling shoes she wasn't sure she deserved. She was the head Grey Warden of Ferelden, with a responsibility of leadership, maturity, and respect. It was clear to her now that the unity of Ferelden must start in this room.

Kila took a deep breath, and spoke in a tone that commanded authority. "Anora…I have come to regard you as a friend. It was only moments ago that you spoke of how you trust me. If that is true, then I ask you to trust me now. Please sit and let me explain."

"_Queen_ Anora. Mind who you are speaking to," Anora growled.

Kila kept her gaze even, "I know very well who I am speaking to - a friend. One that I am hoping chooses not to throw everything away without at least hearing all the facts first."

Anora stood for a moment with her arms crossed over her chest. Again, everyone was staring at her as her lips pursed tightly together. Finally she relented, and sat back in the chair. "Unbelievable," she muttered. Alistair didn't dare look over at her and instead he looked to Kila who offered him a resigned half smile. Anora hadn't stormed out, so there was at least a glimmer of hope.

Carrying on, she spoke to everyone, "Truthfully, no one in this room has the right to judge Alistair on this. He disliked Morrigan as much…if not more…than the rest of you. He did what he did to save me and I am the only one who deserves your scrutiny on this."

This caught Anora's attention. Snapping her focus to Kila, she broke her anger-filled stare into the distance. The others also subconsciously turned their bodies towards Kila, but remained silent.

"The entire time we traveled together, rallying the country to face the Blight, we did so blindly. Alistair was not brought into the order much earlier than I was, so we were at a very serious disadvantage with the knowledge we lacked. He knew many things, and we at least knew what needed to be done, but even so it was a blessing from the Maker for us when we found Riordan at Denerim. Unfortunately, the knowledge he brought was bleak." Finally, Kila sighed. This was not the story she had intended to share, and talking about something she tried so hard to forget was difficult. But she knew she was unable to stop now. Clearing her throat, she confidently continued. "Without going into too much detail and giving away _all_ of the order's secrets, Riordan had informed us that a Blight can only truly end when an arch demon dies at the hands of a Grey Warden. But the warden dies as well."

"In death, sacrifice," Alistair recited part of the warden's creed.

Kila solemnly nodded, "It was only then that we understood. Riordan insisted that as the Senior Grey Warden, the responsibility would be his. But somehow I knew…I just _knew_ it would not turn out so idyllically. So because of that, I already planned to send Alistair to a battle away from the arch demon and…"

Alistair eyes widened, hearing this for the first time, "Wait, what?"

Without hesitation, she replied, "Ferelden needed its King did it not? What do you think it would have done to the country to have Cailan's brother fall that day?" Alistair mulled over her words silently, letting her push on. "At any rate, it was…awful. Maybe it makes me a coward, but…it left me feeling an all new level of desperation to know the next day would mean certain death. Of course, outwardly I remained calm, but…it's one thing to face battle knowing I will _possibly_ die if I make a mistake. But to know it's completely certain? To know that we will _only_ have victory _if_ I die? I'd like to think I've grown enough to handle it with dignity now but…" Kila's air of confidence grew quieter until she finally shrugged.

"It was in this frame of mind that Morrigan came to me - I hadn't even had a chance to return to my room. She was eager to inform me that she not only knew of our necessary sacrifice, but she had a way to outsmart this fate. Sure, it would leave her with a child, but at the time it did not seem important to her. It was merely a byproduct of helping me…helping her friend. She did not want to see me fall anymore than I wanted to. It took a lot for me to convince Alistair, but ultimately he did it because of me. Keep in mind, Alistair only came into his own after the Blight, until then he followed orders. _My_ orders. Morrigan promised she would leave the country with the child and we would never see her again, never mind have her threaten the throne. Maybe it was foolish of me to believe that she did this only because she wanted to help me but…"

As Kila's voice trailed off, Leliana added, "I didn't mind Morrigan really, but it's hard to deny how manipulative she could be."

Zevran suddenly broke his silence, "That night, Morrigan offered tears, but no lies. Being raised by the Crows, you learn to ferret out deceit, so I feel confident in my assessment."

Kila frowned as she turned to Zevran, "You weren't there."

Softly, Zevran snorted as he replied, "That _you_ knew of my Ki. You did not hold me to it, but I still strove to honour the oath that I made to serve you. Letting you disappear into the web of the spider seemed counterproductive to that oath no? Little did I know how much Morrigan had come to care about you. I admit, it was a bit of a surprise…" Turning from Kila, he addressed the group, "You are concerned that Morrigan used Kila for her own purpose yes? Perhaps it might be wise to consider this - until Morrigan met Kila, all she knew of love and friendship was what Flemeth taught her, which is to say it was hollow and pointless. It was Kila that changed this as she fought selflessly to free Morrigan from the threat of her mother, and willingly gave to Morrigan without a second thought. She, like the rest of us, came to deeply care for our leader. However, unlike the others in this room, Morrigan did not have _any_ experience with love and loss. If you think of it, she was a mere child in that respect, yes? And with Kila being perhaps the only person she ever truly cared about, was it not too much to ask for her to watch Kila die? Especially when she could prevent it - for the first time be able to give back to Kila when _she_ needed it? The fact that she would end up with child was a consequence she would deal with later, and on her own. I do not believe she would even allow us to claim that it belongs to Alistair in any way."

Zevran gently took Kila's hand as he stared deeply into her eyes, "If Morrigan had not convinced you, I certainly would have tried. But…it is only now that I truly understand what motivated Morrigan that night. The thought of losing you…I…one does not consider the consequences, one simply acts."

The room grew quiet as Kila reached up to brush the wetness from her eyes and wipe her hand on the blanket, trying to be casual. Zevran looked to his companions who were all silently watching the pair. With a weak laugh, he added, "And now this is the part when someone else talks I should think…"

With her natural grace, Wynne cut in. She had been carefully watching everyone's reaction before speaking, "While I agree that it is not fair to judge Alistair, I do not think it would be fair for us to judge you either my dear. It is hard for anyone to know what they would do until they are faced with that situation. I'm not sure any of us can say we would act differently…"

Anora finally spoke up again, and although her words were still slightly harsh, they were not directed at Alistair, "But, despite of all this and her promises to leave, you were told in the Fade that both Morrigan and her child will threaten Ferelden were you not?"

Smoothing out the blanket under her fingers, Kila was quick to seize control of herself as she shook her head, "Not exactly. The spirit implied that she and I would be on opposite sides of the conflict yes. But I cannot believe that Morrigan would betray us, and I said as much to the spirit. It admitted at that point that it was unable to say what her intentions were. So, it's entirely possible that Morrigan will find herself tangled in something that she can't break free from and that maybe it's not by her own will that she breaks her promise to me. Until it is proven otherwise, that is what I choose to believe."

Anora did not press the issue further, "Very well. Then what does this mean for us?"

"Right, back to the point," Kila agreed. "Please then, pardon my bluntness but Ferelden will need strong leadership to see it through. The best way to secure your position and unite the country under the rule of you both is to produce an heir."

The group was stunned by her directness. Before Alistair could protest, however, Anora waved her hand to quiet him. "No Alistair…she is correct." With a drawn out sigh, she slumped ever so slightly in her chair. "People were already starting to question when Cailan was alive and now…that I'm nearing the end of my child bearing years…I daresay my position might very soon be rather precarious at best."

Again, before Alistair could comment, Kila took over the conversation, "As I said, Ferelden will need strong leadership. It will need a smart, capable, and strong woman to rule alongside Alistair as he faces the challenges of keeping his country at peace." She paused as her face momentarily crumpled. Deepening her resolve she finished, "I am so sorry Anora, for the position I have put you in because of my choices so long ago. While Alistair does not shoulder the blame, I will understand if you cannot move past this with him. But…if that is the case…it will be a devastating loss for all of Ferelden."

Not having an answer, Anora quickly broke eye contact and chewed her lip. Giving Alistair a quick side-long glance, she remained silent.

Finally, Alistair was able to get a word in, however he knew better than to press Anora just yet. Besides that, he had a feeling they would have more than a few words over the topic in the weeks to come. Choosing to break the tension instead, he asked in his usual cheeky manner, "So…other than that little task…what is it that you need from us?"

Kila smiled, feeling the mood in the room lighten slightly. "Well, I can't help you with that. It's the King's place to serve his people and keep the country from falling into civil war. But…you are a good man Alistair, and you are already doing well. I have faith in you. We all do."

"Oh, that's helpful," he commented. "So all I have to do is keep an entire country happy. And what is it you will be doing exactly?"

"I have to do what I _should_ have been doing all along. I was told in no uncertain terms I must rebuild the order and recruit Grey Wardens." Turning to Wynne and Leliana she continued, "Which is why I am hoping you both will consider remaining at the estate, or at least in Denerim. I need to be free to do this, and even go on recruiting missions when necessary so I would like my current recruits to be in good hands."

Without hesitation Wynne nodded and Leliana spoke for them both, "Of course. How could I say no? I do not believe it was an accident that I returned to Denerim when I did."

Kila reached over to squeeze Leliana's hand in thanks. "And I would like to ask Zevran to help me recruit new Wardens," Kila turned to Zevran.

Zevran raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I am afraid I do not understand my Ki. Only Wardens can help and clearly I am no Warden."

"This is something I cannot do alone and with Alistair unable to help me, I think it is fitting to have a founding member of the estate help instead. I should have asked for your help from the beginning but…I was too caught up in…well, anyhow, I get it now at least," she smiled at him. Despite how much she argued with him in the past, he was correct - she had been treating the bond of the taint as though it were more important than the bond of life. That would change. "I know because you are not a Warden, that Grey Wardens from other countries may take issue over concerns of secrecy. But that's fine if they choose to question me…"

Alistair cut her off, "No. Actually it's not fine." Kila looked at him in surprise. "As King, I may have no authority over Grey Wardens from Ferelden or any other another country. But Kila, don't forget…Grey Wardens are charged to defend the world against the darkspawn by _any_ means necessary. So don't let anyone question you as the head Grey Warden of Ferelden."

"You have come so far," Kila chuckled as she felt grateful for the devotion of her friends. That left one thing to discuss, "Whatever events are to come, I believe it will heavily involve our next generation." This was enough for Anora to look back up. Kila nodded, "We will take these steps to prepare, but there is one more element that will be key, as shown to me by the Fade spirit. Apparently…I will have a daughter. I know it seems unlikely that a Grey Warden should naturally be able to conceive once, much less twice but…"

"I think," Wynne somberly interjected, "At this point it would be folly to assume everything surrounding you is entirely natural."

"Fair enough," Kila agreed. "If what the spirit showed me is true, she will become very important, but like everything else, the specifics were vague." Shrugging, she settled back on her pillows, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. "My friends, that is all I know, and it is not to leave this room. It's not much to go off of, and I can't blame you if you do not believe, but I suppose if I do conceive a daughter soon, that will at least be some proof. And of course, Zevran, I'll need your help for that too."

He gave her hand a squeeze as he laughed, "Work, work, work!"

Even Anora couldn't help but smile.

And so it was. Without expressing as much in words, each person knew things would never be the same. Even as they carried on with their day-to-say lives, a dark future would always be looming ahead. And despite how much they laughed, smiled, cried, and lived on, until the first strike came this afternoon would sit in the back of their minds, leaving them anxiously waiting.

* * *

_**Author's Note**: And so it is with mixed feelings that I have officially brought my first story project to a close (sorry, this last post look longer than I thought...I drove myself insane with tearing it apart and rewriting it, so the promise of a couple days turned into a week!). Thank you so much for reading and for all the supportive comments - they really helped me to see this through. Being that this was my first project, I really love any feed back I can get, so if you have any suggestions, ideas, or anything you are more than welcome to send me a message/post a comment. For now, I'll just be focusing on my short, stand-alone stories until the next bit of inspiration hits, so feel free to check my page for my short-story postings from time to time. Thank you again and take care!_


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